


A Lesson in Patience: Book Three

by Shaymed



Series: A Lesson in Patience [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2021-04-07 20:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 114,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21497959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed
Summary: After strangers confront Koltira in the streets of Dalaran, new secrets come to light. Alisbeth's favorite cousin requests help from the group so he may do some studies in Azsuna.
Series: A Lesson in Patience [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1034279





	1. Chapter 1

Anarchaia pushes her hood back as she ascends the stairs of the Legerdemain Lounge. She sighs and knocks on the familiar door when she reaches it. An equally familiar voice growls through it and she pauses. “_Meryl?!_”

The undead man gives Alisbeth a cold smile. “It’s your lucky day.”

The door unlocks and Anarchaia stomps in.

“There’s _no way_ Master appointed you her watchman,” she hisses.

“So there _are_ things he doesn’t tell you,” Meryl responds coolly. He pushes up from the armchair and sets his book aside.

“Whatever. I’m relieving you.”

“The sight of you has never relieved me,” he grumbles. He shoots Alisbeth a malicious look before stepping out. “Good luck, _apprentice_.”

Alisbeth cowers one last time under Meryl’s glare. Once the door is closed, she crawls out from under the bed. Her hair is disheveled and tangled, her skin is dirty, her armor removed and her linen under-clothing torn in places. Her lips curve to a frown and she starts to cry. “I’ve n-never been s-so happy to s-see you, Apricot.” She wraps her arms around the mage and cries into her collar bone. “You’re really real. You’re _really_ real.” She hugs her tighter and cries harder. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow in horror and returns the embrace. “What the hell did he _do_ to you?”

Alisbeth shakes her head. “No. No. I don’t want to. Don’t make me.”

The mage shakes her head in astonishment. “Okay! Okay. I won’t. Let’s…get you cleaned up, okay?” She gestures toward the door, an arm still around the other’s shoulders. “Go take a shower, and I’ll fix your clothes.”

Alisbeth nods rapidly and goes to the door. She stops at the threshold as though there is a line drawn across the floor. She sniffs and looks at Anarchaia. “I can go? Right? I can leave and you won’t stop me?” She wrings her hands nervously.

Anarchaia sighs and nods. “Yes, Ali. You’re allowed.” _Dear gods, he’s ruined everything I’ve worked for._

Alisbeth nods again. “Okay. Shower. I get to take a shower.” She smiles and hops out of the room, then pauses as though she might explode. When nothing happens, she runs down the hall to the showers and dives inside an empty one, cutting in front of a disgruntled dwarf.

Anarchaia walks to the wardrobe and pulls out a spare set of linen clothes that she’d bought for the death knight, laying them out on the bed for when she returns.

When Alisbeth returns from her shower, smiling as she walks, it’s as though she’s already forgotten the ordeal. She spots Anarchaia still in her room, then sees the clothes laid out. “For me?” She doesn’t wait for the affirmative and drops her towel to pull them on.

The mage turns away as not to catch Alisbeth’s nudity. “Yes. You need more than one set of clothes, so I bought more for you. Do they fit?”

Alisbeth wiggles as though testing the clothes out. She smiles. “They fit. Arms are a bit loose, but…” She holds out her arms to show the sleeves dangling from her bony arms.

~ * ~

Grimory sits at an outdoor table near one of the many taverns in the city, poring over a parchment and sipping an ale. He turns his shoulders slightly and lifts the important document into its light when the sun catches his eye.

Koltira stops on his way to visit Alisbeth, wondering if today she’d be less erratic under the watch of Meryl. He glances over, then stops and looks again at the demon hunter sitting at a table. Koltira sighs and decides now is as good a time as any to have the talk he’s been building since Alisbeth had admitted to _trying_ to love him. It was the first time in three days he’d even seen Grimory and he had to wonder if the other man had even stopped in to see her. He walks right over and stops, blocking the sun on Grimory’s paper.

“Hi, Grim. How’s it going?”

Grimory cranes his head backward to look up, unamused, at the death knight. “It’s going,” he grunts and turns back to his parchment. “You?”

Koltira pauses and lets out a breath. “Okay. I’m just going to come right out with it. It’s time you and I just…get it all out, lay our cards on the table. So, if you please, I’d like for you to take a walk with me. In public, so neither can draw weapon on the other.” He jerks his thumb at Byfrost strapped to his back. “Buy you a drink, after?”

Grimory inhales a long breath, then holds it for a moment. Sighing, he rolls up his parchment and stows it before standing. “Sure.” He downs the rest of his ale and saunters off down the alley back toward the somewhat busy street.

“I wanted to be your friend, Grim. No matter what I’ve said, you’re really an okay guy. Great drinking partner. But, um, one thing keeps coming around and I think it needs to be addressed. Alisbeth. I mean at first it was just that one event, but… She cares about you. You’re a good friend to her. But apparently I’m a jealous man. I never thought I would be. So, how do we solve it?” He observes the demon hunter from the corner of his eye.

Grimory narrows his eyes but doesn’t look at the man beside him. “Are you being serious right now? You’re jealous of my relationship with her when you’ve made it pretty clear you care more about a different woman.” He shakes his head as though collecting his thoughts. “You two aren’t good for each other. And I think you know that.”

Koltira shrugs. “Can’t choose what you’re jealous over, it seems. I’m not sure that I care _more_…” He doesn’t finish the thought, realizing Grimory is right. “Alisbeth admitted to me that she has to _try_ to love me. What do I even do with that?” He holds out a hand. “Not your problem, I know… I just want her to be happy.”

“If you have to _try_ to love someone, it means you don’t really love them.” Grimory sighs, his irritation subsiding some. “You have Ana to consider, too, you know. I warned you this would happen.” He clenches his jaw. “I want to help you, Kolt, I really do…”

Koltira pinches the bridge of his nose. _This was a stupid idea._ “But you can’t. I get it. It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up. I’ll keep my thoughts to myself about you two, as well. Maybe one day she’ll forgive me.” _When I can forgive myself._ “Would be a shame to throw away ten years together.” He holds out his hand. “Truce, though? Again?”

Grimory turns to glance at Koltira’s hand then back to his face. He hesitates, then takes it and shakes it. “Yeah, truce.” He returns to walking and stretches his neck. “So what do you plan to do? You’re not honestly considering just keeping both of them…?”

“Well, there are tauren that practice that sort of thing…” He laughs, but half considers the idea.

Grimory furrows his brow as though insulted. “You need to saddle up and make a decision, or you’re going to end up with neither.” He looks ahead, again. “But I’m sure you know my opinion. And that’s not just because I care about Ali. I want her to be happy, too.” He sobers. “And Ana.”

“And I suppose you want both, too.” He shakes his head. “I wish it was as simple as pointing at one and saying ‘I choose you.’”

“Ana doesn’t care about me, so that decision would be easy.” He leans away from a worgen as they nearly collide. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Am I getting it whether or not I say yes?”

Grimory rolls his eyes. “You and Ali obviously don’t make each other happy anymore. You’re together because of what you _had_ and not what you have. That’s probably what attracted you to Ana to begin with, yeah? You’re calculating, logical, don’t like to not have control. Ali is unpredictable, loud, likes to have fun. It’s bad. I think…” He inhales. “I think you should separate, regardless of whether or not you choose to be with Ana.”

Koltira stops and stares at Grimory as though he’d physically struck him. “_Separate?_ I…I don’t even…” _Well, it’s not a bad idea…_

“You _monster!_” A wiry Quel’dorei man, with hair the color of straw and bright lavender eyes, holding the hand of a young girl with honey blonde hair stomp right up to Koltira.

Koltira turns, remaining calm as he’s used to the word.

“Murderer!”

The death knight narrows his eyes. “Keep going, and not even the guards will save you from my _response_.”

The man swallows, his resolve seeming to waver.

Grimory bristles at the two younger elves. “Hey,” he says with a cool sternness. “That was years ago, kid. The death knights have done a lot to earn our trust.”

The young lady shrinks away from the two, not saying anything but brow still furrowed in suspicious anger.

“S-stay out of this!” he says to Grimory.

Koltira’s eyes narrow. “Look, I don’t know what I did—”

“You m-murdered our cousin.”

Koltira looks to the sky for patience. “I’ve killed many cousins. You have no proof that I, personally, killed yours.”

“But I do! You killed her in Silvermoon and took her sword. As what? A-a trophy?”

“That one!” the girl cries, pointing to the handle over Koltira’s shoulder. “That’s cousin Ali’s sword!”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows and looks between the girl and the boy. “You’re Alisbeth’s cousins?”

“Yes,” the man says.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Koltira closes his eyes to think, holding his hands out as a plea for calm. “You’ve got this all wrong.”

“No, we don’t. Ali died in Silvermoon. And I’m assuming _you_ are the one that did it. And then you _stole_ the Redblade from her! That is her family sword.” He straightens with renewed courage. “And as her family, I-I demand you h-hand it over.” He holds out a hand trembling with the fear he’s otherwise doing well to hide.

“Yeah, give it back!” the girl says in an equally bold tone, holding out her thin little arm as tough he could just drop the heavy weapon into her palm.

Suddenly finding this amusing, a grin spreads across Grimory’s lips and he glances at Koltira. “Better do as they say, Kolt. They mean business.”

Koltira’s brow lowers at the demon hunter. He sighs, his whole demeanor deflating. “Alisbeth didn’t die in Silvermoon. I fought alongside her. She was my captain. _I_ did die in Silvermoon. She survived long after. In fact…if you’ll come with me…”

“You expect me to believe our cousin is still alive?”

Koltira thinks on it. “No.” He takes Byfrost from his back and holds it out to the man. “As a sign of good faith that you _will_ follow me, I’ll let you take the Redblade. For now.”

The man eyes him suspiciously and gives equal scrutiny to Grimory. After a moment, he takes the sword, the handle shifts to copper and he grunts under the weight. He grips it in both hands and tucks it carefully at his side. “Fine, then. Lead the way.”

Grimory chuckles and shakes his head. His eyes linger on the girl for a moment before turning to lead them through the streets toward the inn Alisbeth is residing in.

The girl whispers up to her brother. “We should just take it. It belongs to us.”

The man pats her shoulder and whispers back, “It belonged to the Redblades, not to us. If cousin Ali is still alive…” He clears his throat. “So, who exactly are you?” He motions at the two leading his sister and him to what could be a trap, for all they know.

The girl pouts but does not retort.

Koltira smirks over his shoulder. “I’m Koltira. Deathweaver. You may have heard of me.”

The man furrows his brow. “I have. A lot, actually. Thassarian frequented our father’s tavern in Stormwind. Talkative drunk.” He stares at the Illidari. “And you? Who are you?”

Grimory gives the two a charming, fang-filled smile. “Nobody.” He motions for the group to enter the Legerdemain Lounge. “Just up the stairs. First door on the—” He pauses at the sound of shattering coming from said staircase. “Right.”

Koltira jogs up the stairs and opens the door. A vase flies past his head to shatter against the wall. He pauses, blinking at the sight. The bed is turned on its side to split the room in half diagonally. Anarchaia huddles in front of it with a vase in her hands. Shards of broken porcelain and ceramic litter the floor and several more intact vases are gathered around the mage.

The high elf narrows his eyes as he looks inside. “What on Azeroth is going on?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Koltira says.

Anarchaia stands abruptly, dropping the vase she’s holding. “O-oh! And who’s this?” she asks in an innocent tone. She throws her hands behind her back and smiles.

“Some kids who wanted to meet Ali,” Grimory responds, looking at the chaos around him.

The top of Alisbeth’s head pops over the wooden railing of the bed, her eyes narrow and scheming. She holds a fragile-looking vase over Anarchaia’s head, then pauses as her eyes flick to the man standing just behind Koltira. She shoves the vase onto the mage’s head as her eyes widen; Anarchaia gives a cry of surprise, then yanks the vase off her head. Rather than going around the blockade, the death knight scrambles over the top, a manic excitement painting her face with a smile.

“Tabbef!” She leaps at him, curling all of her limbs around the elf.

His eyes go wide as he drops the Redblade and teeters forward. “Arribet?” He returns the hug, laughing in excitement. “It is you! Where have you been? Why did you stop writing?”

She climbs down from him and ushers them all inside, closing the door behind them. She paces excitedly, wringing her hands as she looks around at the mess. She smooths her hair as though trying to look presentable.

“What brings you to Dalaran?”

Anarchaia gently sets the vase down and joins the group. “So who _are_ these—” She notices the little girl and smiles, kneeling to her level. “Oh my, aren’t you a cutie! What’s your name, sweetie?”

The girl backs away to hide behind her brother’s leg. “Diori,” she mumbles cautiously. “Diori Nightheart. This is my brother Taveth.”

Grimory flicks an ear and jerks his head to look down at the girl. _Diori…_ Memories of some fifty years ago flood his mind and his eyes widen slightly. He rubs at his mouth with a palm, unable to take his eyes off the honey-haired child.

Alisbeth bites into her lip and stares at the girl. “Oh… Oh, my…” She goes over, pushing Taveth aside to look at Diori. “Hi,” she coos. She brushes the girl’s hair back and holds her face in her hands to look at her. “Hi, Diori.”

Taveth smiles. “I see father told you about my little sister.”

Alisbeth gives a small laugh, her face filling with pure joy as she continues to stare at the child. “Your sister. Yes… You’re so beautiful! Oh, just look at you.” Her smile drops just a little. “Wait. Wait right there. I have something for you.” Alisbeth rushes to her dresser and pulls a drawer open so fast that it crashes to the floor. She ignores it and digs through the bag inside. She returns to Diori with a candy cane. “Do you like candy canes? I love candy canes.” She shoves it into the girl’s hand.

Diori looks between Alisbeth and the candy cane, then gives a shy smile as she takes it. “Are you really cousin Alisbeth?”

Anarchaia suddenly worries over the state of the room and sets to repairing all the vases and resetting the bed.

Grimory swallows hard, still unable to look away from Diori. A mixture of rage and joy fills his heart and he clenches his jaw before turning and leaving abruptly, closing the door behind him and going to sit in the lounge downstairs.

“I am!” Alisbeth chirps. “I wrote you letters. Did you get them?”

Taveth clears his throat. “We did…until Silvermoon fell.”

She frowns. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry, I… There were so many wounded in Dalaran and they needed my help. I didn’t have time. And then we were attacked and…so many died.” She frowns. “Then I went to Outland and there was no way to send letters to you. I guess after that I just forgot…I was so busy. Searching for Thassarian. Revenge. So busy.” She gives Diori a bright smile. “Want to see a trick?”

Diori takes a tentative step forward and nods. She smiles and sticks the end of the cane between her cheek and gums.

“What did Uncle Falren tell you about the Redblade?” She motions at the sword in Taveth’s fists.

“That only those the blade deems worthy can wield its power,” Diori recites with the candy still in her mouth and excitement in her eyes. “Can you show us?”

Alisbeth claps her hands excitedly. “Of course! See, the handle is copper when Taveth wields it. If he were to try using it, he would struggle. If someone with Redblade blood picks it up,” She takes the sword from Taveth and the handle shifts to crimson, the green of the blade glows brighter, “it turns red. Because we are the true owners of the blade.”

Taveth smiles. “Yep, you’re a Redblade. Gods, I’ve missed you.”

She laughs and holds the sword out to Koltira. “If someone deemed worthy takes the blade, the handle will shift to another color representative of them.”

Koltira takes the handle and blue crawls up to consume the red. “I call it Byfrost when I wield it.”

“And…who are you?” Taveth asks.

“That’s my husband, Koltira.”

Koltira smiles and scrutinizes Anarchaia. “I’ve always wondered how it would react to someone who isn’t physically strong enough to wield it…” He holds out the sword. “Come on, Ana, let’s see if you’re worthy.”

The mage stops tidying the room and gives a nervous chuckle as she approaches. “I’m not much of a swordsman,” she says, but reaches for the blade regardless. Once near enough, her fingers seem to coil around the hilt of their own volition and refuse to let go. The blue of the blade brightens to an intense violet and a swirl of energy circles her feet, causing her robes to flutter. A light of similar color shines forth from her eyes, through her mask. After a brief moment she forces herself to push the hilt into Diori’s hands. “_Youtakethis,_” she gasps, heart pounding.

Alisbeth’s eyes widen on the mage. “Aggie, what—_No!_” She reaches out to stop the exchange of the sword between the two, but is too late.

Diori’s eyes widen as the blade strobes from violet to crimson. Her mouth falls open and the candy cane clatters to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Alisbeth fidgets before rushing forward to pry the sword from Diori’s hands. “Shouldn’t have— Shouldn’t have…” She stands in the corner, muttering to herself.

Taveth and Koltira stand stunned, with mirroring expressions—their eyes wide and their mouths agape.

Koltira takes a breath. “How old did you say she was?”

Diori blinks, staring at the blade in Alisbeth’s hands for a long moment before mumbling “I’m fifty…”

Koltira rubs his palms down his face. “You’re the last of the Redblade line, Alisbeth. That’s what you told me.”

Taveth purses his lips. “She was…” His brow furrows as he looks down at Diori. “I’m sorry.”

Alisbeth shrinks into the corner, cradling the sword in her arms. “What? Huh? _What?_ Stop looking at me like that. Just stop.”

Diori’s eyes well with tears for reasons she cannot comprehend; she’s unable to look away from Alisbeth and the sword. Finally, she looks up at her brother, sapphire eyes wide. “What are you saying?”

He sets a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m not your brother, Diori.”

“You’re not,” Alisbeth snaps. “But does that change anything?”

“Ali, you told me—” Koltira begins.

“I know what I told you.” She frowns and drops the sword to cover her face. “I was so young…”

Diori shakes her head, the tears breaking free and streaming down her cheeks. She turns on Alisbeth, hands balled in fists. “You’re my mother?” she whispers, scowling.

Alisbeth steps forward, her entire demeanor pleading with Diori. “Yes. But, you see, I was too young and Uncle Falren was a better choice.”

Koltira clenches his jaw. “You…_abandoned_ her?”

Alisbeth shakes her head. “No. Didn’t— Didn’t abandon. Tirion took you to Falren. To keep you safe.” Tears threaten to fall from her eyes as she realizes everything she’d missed out on.

Anarchaia takes a step back as the tensions in the room rise, wanting to leave, but too fascinated by the situation to do so.

Diori sniffles, fists shaking. “So if father isn’t _really_ my father, who is?” She points at Koltira without turning to look at him. “_Is it him?! Who is it?!_”

Koltira folds his arms over his chest. “Yes, please tell us. Who was it that you didn’t think to tell _me_ about _any_ of this.”

Taveth gives her a pained smile. “Ali, please. There’s no point keeping it secret anymore.”

Alisbeth frowns as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I can’t remember. It was so long ago. My memories are so jumbled…I…I was mad. Mad at Tirion. So I took Bloodmane for a ride. She slipped a shoe and, um…” She pulls at her hair as she thinks. “There was a, um…farm boy. He helped me. And…” She slaps her hands over her face and sinks into the corner. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Koltira’s ears pull back as something about the story sounds so familiar to him. Without a word, he storms from the room. Just before leaving the tavern, he spots Grimory. With clenched fists, he walks over to stand above the demon hunter. “Are you fucking serious?”

“_You don’t even know?!_” Diori inhales a shaky breath, then, unable to hold back any further, bursts into sobs and runs from the room, hands covering her face and honey hair flowing behind her.

Anarchaia merely gives Alisbeth a look of sadness and disapproval behind her mask before following the girl down the stairs. When she reaches the lounge, however, Diori is already gone and out of sight. She instead overhears the men in the corner and turns to listen.

Grimory does not lift his face buried in his folded arms on the table. “What? You want to hit me?” He raises his head to glower up at him. “I’m just as upset as you are, you know.” He breathes a laugh through his nose without smiling as he watches the girl run into the streets and resists the urge to chase after her. “She’s fifty, isn’t she?”

Koltira clenches his jaw. “Yes. And according to Ali, her _father_ is some farm boy she met when her horse slipped a shoe.” He reigns in his anger as best he can. “How long have you known it was Ali?”

“About, oh, ten minutes?” Grimory hisses up at the death knight.

Taveth crouches down to pull Alisbeth into a hug. “I’m sure you thought it was a good idea at the time.”

“But… I wrote her a letter! I sent it with her. Falren was supposed to give it to her when she was old enough to understand.” She pushes a fist into her eye to wipe at the tears.

“I’ll ask father about it.” He smooths a palm over her hair. “I have to go get Diori. She’s so much like you… Knows how to get lost in a big city.”

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks.

He nods and runs after the girl.

“You’re her father?” Anarchaia asks the demon hunter as she approaches the table. She bristles when he nods. “You need to go tell her!”

“_Tell her what?_” he yells, standing. “That her mother didn’t want to tell me about her? That she probably didn’t think I’d make a good father? That she was a _mistake_?”

Anarchaia scowls and squares her shoulders. “You want to know who _your_ father is, don’t you?”

Grimory grits his fangs. “This is different. It’s too late.”

Taveth, overhearing the demon hunter’s words, steps in. “I know her better than anyone. She’d want to know. Besides, apparently my father has a letter for Diori, from Alisbeth… She may have identified you in it?” He shrugs. “But what do I know? I’ve only been her fake brother for half a century.” He doesn’t wait for a reply as he heads out into the streets to find Diori.

Koltira growls. “Setting my pride aside, she needs you. You’re her father.”

Eyes crackling, Grimory mulls this over for a moment, then gives a noise of frustration before following Taveth into the streets.

Anarchaia turns to look up into Koltira’s face and frowns. “Are you all right?” she asks quietly.

Koltira shrugs. “Robbed of being a father…again. Lied to from day one by the woman I’ve loved for twenty years. _That_ man being the father of _my_ wife’s secret child… Oh yeah. Yeah, I’m completely fine.” He stomps to the bar and steals a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter, then walks out the door, taking hefty swigs.

Anarchaia blinks, and throws gold onto the counter, then follows the death knight into the streets. “Koltira, wait!”

“For what?” Koltira demands, “another child to pop up that isn’t mine?”

Anarchaia sobers and places a hand on his arm. “This is terrible, I know, but drinking yourself silly isn’t going to make it go away or hurt any less.”

Koltira shakes his head. “And what will? Please, I’m all ears.”

Anarchaia’s gaze flicks from his long ears back to his face and she purses her lips to hold back a snerk. “Nothing,” she says after a moment. “Nothing will make the hurt go away. Not even an apology. Nothing will make you feel better but _you_.”

He shakes his head. “Well _I_ choose getting drunk until a better plan presents itself.”

Anarchaia deflates, then sighs. She gives a painful smile. “Is there anything I can do to help? Make sure you don’t pass out somewhere dangerous? Pay for your drinks?”

Koltira frowns, trying to hide how upset he truly is. “Can… Can you just be with me? Take us somewhere?”

Anarchaia smiles and nods, holding out her hand. “Of course. Any place in particular?”

Koltira takes her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “You pick.”

Anarchaia gives a deep sigh. “Don’t let go,” she says and the two disappear in a fashion not unfamiliar to them. When they reappear, they are at the small pond in the forests of Val’sharah, the trees around them shadowing the long grass with leaves that shudder in the faint breeze. “Does this suffice?”

Koltira gives a small smile and drops to the ground, dragging Anarchaia into his lap. “This will do nicely.”

The mage pushes her hood back and leans against his cuirass. She reflects on the events of the week and glances out over the water. “I’m sorry, Koltira. You really don’t deserve any of that.”

He sets his fingertips over her mouth and takes a drink of whiskey, then plants the bottle in the grass. “Let’s not talk about any of that. Let’s play a little game. What would you do if you were still alive? Like…what would your plans for the future look like?” He wraps his arms around her and leans his cheek on her shoulder.

Anarchaia smiles gently to herself, momentarily forgetting the drama they’d left in Dalaran. “I’d have a house with two stories, a piano, and two children: a son and a daughter. We’d have a hound and a cat and a garden that we made meals from and sit by the fire each night reading stories to one another.” _With you._ “You?”

Koltira leans back, dragging the mage down with him. He chuckles. “That sounds like a wonderful life.” He breathes deep and closes his eyes, imagining himself in that house, with those children, with Anarchaia. But he frowns. “If I’d never died I’d probably still be a farstrider. I’d have a cottage in the forest. Live off the land, hunt for my food, make my own tools. No wife. No children. Not for a few hundred more years, at least.” While the image seems beautiful to him, it makes him sad to realize that she wouldn’t be a part of it.

Anarchaia gazes up at the sky and brings her hands up to his arms. “You’re saying if you had a second chance you wouldn’t have wed her?”

Koltira sucks in a breath and holds it. “I think…I don’t know. She was always wanting in on the action, signing up for duties in dangerous territories. But I never liked the actual war of it. I liked the quiet guarding of the temple. Knowing I was serving a purpose without having to get violent. It was peaceful. I _did_ want to wed her, but I think she would have moved on. More adventures. More chapters in her tome.” Koltira picks at the grass and drops some on Anarchaia, a playful smile on his lips. They burn to cinders and flutter up into the sky before disappearing completely.

“Did Khadgar lay into you about me, yet? He seems genuinely concerned with how ‘attached’ you are to me.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow and turns over to look at him. “He said that?”

“Yep. Right before he took you to the Hall, where I couldn’t look after you as you recovered.” He purses his lips and studies her mask. “Don’t tell me I’m in competition with _him_, too.”

Anarchaia pulls her head back in astonishment, blushing at the implication. “_Competition_? Koltira, I don’t know what you think my relationship is with my mentor is, but I assure you it’s nothing to worry about. He’s most likely worried about my studies.” She sobers. “And no, he merely said I wasn’t to ever allow anyone not authorized into the Hall ever again or the consequences would be less than favorable.” She then cocks her head at him. “And what do you mean ‘_too’_?”

“If you’d shown any interest, I’m sure Grimory would be vying for your attention right now. Instead of…sulking over having a child.” He sighs and presses his forehead against hers. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Anarchaia frowns and looks into his eyes through her mask. “About what? Let me help.”

“It’s like Grim said… I can’t keep both of you…” He averts his gaze, even though he can’t see the reaction on her face.

“O-oh.” Anarchaia lowers her face onto his chest. “I don’t feel I’m qualified to help in that decision. I’m sorry. I’m a biased source.” Her frown deepens. “I just want you to be happy.”

Koltira chuckles. “Well, un-bias yourself for just one minute. If you had no stakes in this mess… Or if you were in my place, even… Could you forgive her for…_everything_? She had another man’s child and never told me. In fact, she let on that she was still a maiden when we met!”

Anarchaia shrugs a shoulder. “It’s amazing what love will make you forgive. Does the way you feel about her in your heart outweigh the way you feel about her in your head?”

“What if it doesn’t?” he whispers, as though the grass itself will scream his secret. He looks up into her mask, wishing to look into her eyes.

“Then can you ever be truly happy with her?” Anarchaia responds in an equally quiet tone.

Koltira hooks his thumb beneath Anarchaia’s mask and pulls it upward, hoping she’ll let him take it off. “I don’t know, can I?”

Anarchaia allows him to pull up her mask and gives a sad smile. “Perhaps if you’re a masochist.”

He runs his fingers through her hair and takes in her features. “Or perhaps I need a little more convincing.”

Anarchaia can’t help but smile at his charm and leans down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “I feel…badly influencing you like this.”

“Do you see her trying to ‘influence’ me? Ever? Especially since the Trials…” He leans forward to kiss her.

“Perhaps not, but…I think she still loves you very much. And I…” She pauses, then swallows and looks away as though preparing herself for what she’s about to say. “I feel like what we have is mostly…ph-physical.”

Koltira sits up and stares at the pond. He rubs his palm over his mouth, then stands. “Thank you for clearing that up. I’m s-so…” He clenches his jaw. “I’m so glad you could finally be honest with me.” He doesn’t look at her as he paces, contemplating just walking away now, before he makes a bigger fool of himself.

Anarchaia sits up as well but does not stand, the red light in her empty eye flickering in panic. “N-no! That’s not what I meant! I-I told you I _loved_ you. I just worry that you…that you don’t…”

Koltira stops and purses his lips down at the mage. “Gods dammit, Ana. Just say what you mean. You want me to say it? Is that it? Well, I love you Ana. Everything about you. The silly hiccups you get when you drink too much. The way you stutter when you’re flustered. The sound in your voice when you get excited about a subject of study. I love the way you know so much and yet don’t think you do.” He kneels to take her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I love when you take off your mask so I can see all of the wonderful things you are when I look into your eyes. Does that satisfy you?”

The mage shrinks away and covers her face with both hands to hide her flushing cheeks. “That’s…I-I wasn’t looking for compliments,” she says quietly, her face warm. “But thank you.”

Koltira sits back on his heels. “And what _do_ you want?”

Anarchaia parts her fingers to look up at him with a glowing red pupil and smiles. “The _I love you_ was enough.”

“What else do you want?” he asks, resting his palm on her cheek, knowing what he wants to hear, no matter how bad it is to admit it.

Anarchaia’s gaze flicks between his eyes as her hands slide from her face to cover his hand. “I want you to be with me,” she says in a hushed tone. “Only me.”

Koltira pulls her into his arms. “Maybe that’s what I want, too.”

The mage gives a content smile and wraps her arms around him, but the uncertainty in his words leave her on edge. “I’ll support you no matter what you do. I meant it when I said I just want you to be happy.” Her smile grows somber. “Even if it means leaving me behind.”

Koltira scoffs. “I have no such intentions.” He brushes her hair behind her ear and stares into her eyes. “You’re too good for me.”

The undead girl leans up place her face in the crook of his neck, enjoying the touch of his skin, in spite of the cold. “I think you’re better for me than I am for you.”

Koltira blinks at the whiskey in the grass as though seeing it there for the first time. “Huh, that’s strange… I didn’t know stupid things could come out of your mouth.” He gives a sly grin, though she can’t see it.

Anarchaia purses her lips and furrows her brow. “I suppose you haven’t spent enough time with me, then.”

He sends his fingertips into her ribs, knowing how ticklish she is. “I guess I’ll have to change that, then.”

“Noo!” Anarchaia laughs and reflexively pushes away to avoid being tickled further. “Not if you’re going to do that!” She breathes while her chuckles trail off.

Koltira laughs and holds her tighter. “No promises. I like hearing you laugh.”

“There are other ways to get me to laugh that don’t involve terrorism,” she responds with a smile.

“Oh, but this one is fun.” He pokes into her ribs again as his arms grip her so she can’t get away.

Anarchaia struggles and heaves with uncontrollable laughter. Panicking, she blinks from his grasp. In her desperation, however, she teleports in the wrong direction and lands herself in the shallow water of the pond a few yards away. Still giggling and breathless, she sits, defeated. “Oops.”

Koltira stands and laughs at her situation. “Need some help?” He holds out his hand to her.

Anarchaia nods and grasps his hand in hers. Once she has him, her smile turns impish and she pulls him forward to fall into the water as well. The death knight remains on his feet for a moment before the ground gives way. He topples onto Anarchaia.

She gasps with laughter when the situation takes a turn she hadn’t anticipated, the weight of his armor crushing her lungs and pushing her into the loose silt. “Sorry!”

Koltira rolls off the mage as he laughs. He looks her over to make sure the horns on his pauldrons didn’t impale her, then sets a hand on her abdomen as he smiles and studies her face. “I choose you.”

Anarchaia smiles in return and sets her hands on his one. Her white hair flows around her head in the shallow water. “I promise not to go insane,” she says quietly.

A pang of guilt hits him and he frowns. “That’s not why I…”

Anarchaia squeezes his hand as though in apology. “I know it isn’t. I didn’t mean it that way.” She wipes a few leaves of duckweed from her cheek and sits up. “I can’t promise you won’t get bored of me, though.”

Koltira shrugs. “I can’t promise _you_ won’t get bored of _me_.”

“Well. _I’m_ known to have immature tendencies,” she says, taking his reply as a challenge to a contest of self-deprecation.

“Well, I’m just an unpleasant individual who bosses people around,” he retorts.

“I’m so bad at my job I’ve been an apprentice for twenty years.”

“_I_ was so bad at _my_ job that the Lich King got through the Elfgates and defiled the Sunwell…with my help.”

Anarchaia opens her mouth and inhales, pauses, then deflates with a nervous grin. “You win. Heh.”

He gives her a devilish grin. “I remember well my prize for losing…I have to wonder what I get for winning?”

Anarchaia blinks, then responds with a sultry smile. “Name it and it’s yours.”

Koltira chuckles. “No surprises this time? I rather like surprises.”

Anarchaia pulls her robes over her head and tosses the saturated article onto the shore. “I’m not good with surprises unless completely intoxicated.” She wrings out her hair, seemingly unaware that the rest of her clothing is just as soaked.

“Mmm,” Koltira hums as he looks her over, unable to ignore the transparent state of her white shirt. “Loser gets the surprise, then.” He suddenly reaches forward and drags her to straddle his lap. “Excuse me if I’m lacking in creativity, right now.” His hand trails up her side, pushing at the shirt to move it upward.

Anarchaia gasps, but smiles and resists the urge to giggle as his traveling hand brushes against her ribs. She drapes her arms around his neck. “I think I can forgive it.” She presses her forehead to his. “Just this once.”


	3. Chapter 3

After many minutes of searching, Grimory’s ears pick up the faint sound of weeping on the outskirts of the city. He follows to find Diori settled on a bench near a ruined part of town, face in her hands and sobbing quietly. The Illidari sighs and steels himself before approaching and sitting beside her. “Hey.”

Diori jumps in surprise as the bench creaks with new weight. She sniffles and rubs at an eye as she scowls up at the man. “Oh. It’s nobody.” She hiccups. “What do you want?”

“I…” Grimory hesitates for a long moment, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. He growls and looks away, unable to say the words.

“You what?” Diori snaps, scowling. “Are _you _my father?” she scoffs sarcastically.

Grimory turns back to her with a somber look in his eyes, brow furrowed upward in sympathy.

Diori suddenly stands, turning to face him, rage renewing. “_You’re my father?_” She cuts him off before he can respond. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I didn’t—”

“_WHY?_” Diori begins to beat her fists against his chest as fresh tears fall down her face.

The Illidari frowns, allowing her to vent her anger for a moment. “I didn’t know until you did.” He grabs her fists and looks up into her face. “I know you’re angry. But your mother did what she thought was right.” He sobers. “Believe me, if I’d have known…”

“Why don’t I have cool horns like you?” the girl sobs, ears drooping.

Grimory can’t help but smile. “That’s a different story. But trust me, I’m your…father.” He clenches his jaw, the words foreign to him.

Taveth sees the Illidari by Diori and sighs in relief. He takes up a spot not far to observe, but not eavesdrop.

Diori pulls her hands out of his and sniffles, face still red. “I don’t even know you. You’re nobody.”

The demon hunter gives a quiet, tired chuckle. “I’m Grimory.”

“What’s your last name?” the girl demands, folding her arms and kicking at the dirt.

“Silversong.”

Diori’s pout intensifies and she continues to avoid his gaze. “That’s a pretty name.” She bites her lip. “I want to talk to cous—…Ali.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows. “You do? S-sure.” He stands.

“Alone,” she snaps and stomps off in the direction she’d come.

Taveth approaches Grimory slowly, then sets himself on the other end of the bench. “I’m not sure how well you know Ali, but…Diori is just like her. I always thought so, I just never thought in a million years…” He clears his throat and scratches behind an ear. “So, um… Ali wasn’t just excited in there, was she? I mean… As well as I know her… Please tell me I’m wrong about something being a bit off about my cousin.”

Grimory sits back down and places his elbows on his knees. “You’re not wrong. She’s definitely not the same woman she was.” He shakes his head. “A lot’s happened between when I first met her and when I met her again a few months ago. She’s…” he shrugs, “not okay.”

Taveth’s brow furrows. “‘Not okay,’ how?”

Grimory gives the man a look. “Please don’t make me say it out loud.”

“Oh,” Taveth says, pulling his ears back. “Is she…safe to be around?”

“Of course.” Grimory hesitates and looks away. “Mostly. Certain things seem to trigger her but…she’s not violent. Usually.”

“Certain things,” Taveth repeats.

“Calling her psycho or crazy,” Grimory says quietly. “She doesn’t like forsaken.”

Taveth frowns. “As much as I love my cousin, I don’t like the idea of her being left alone with my sist— With Diori. She seems too unpredictable.” He stands and sighs. “Does that make me a bad person?”

Grimory shakes his head and stands as well. “No. It doesn’t. I’ll go with. I seem to have some weird way of calming her down.”

Taveth scrutinizes the demon hunter. “Maybe somewhere in there she remembers…subconsciously.”

Grimory shrugs as they near the lounge. “I doubt it, but it’s fun to dream.”

“No harm in that,” Taveth says as he follows the demon hunter up the steps.

~ * ~

Alisbeth scrambles back to her room, ducking to avoid being seen. She smiles and claps to find her delivery already waiting for her, and begins setting it up.

Diori finds her way back to the center of town. She makes her way up the staircase of the lounge and scowls at the door for a moment before knocking.

The death knight jumps at the knock and hides her hands behind her back. “Come in?” Her eyes shift from the door to the bed and back before she jumps forward to shove the stuffed murloc clutched in her hands into the arrangement of nearly every toy they’d had at the toy shop.

Diori steps cautiously inside, her eyes stopping on the assortment of toys. She forces herself to look back at Alisbeth before slowly closing the door. “He told me.”

Her smile fades and she sits on the edge of the bed. “Oh.” She takes the murloc back into her hands and wrings it nervously. “I, um, don’t usually open with that. I’m sure you have some questions. I’ll answer all of them. I promise. Okay?” She pats the bed beside her. “These are for you, by the way! All of them! What kind of toys do you like? I like the trains.” She sobers again. “Wait. Answers. I promised.” She takes a deep breath. “Tell me what Koltira told you and I’ll fill in the gaps. I’ll even try to not get angry. They say I tend to do that.” She laughs nervously.

Diori begrudgingly takes a seat and again looks over at the toys. When told they’re all for her, she takes up a plush of a fae dragon and hugs it tightly to her chest; the sparkles on the wings rub off on her shirt. “Koltira didn’t tell me anything. The big man with the horns and teeth. He told me.” She frowns and looks down at her feet dangling off the mattress. “Why did you send me away?”

Alisbeth blinks in quick succession. “Grim? What did _he_tell you? We barely know each other…” She frowns and stares at the floor. “I sent you away…” She rubs her forehead, trying to bring the memories forward. “I was only eighty. I was…too young. The boy…he was just a farm boy. It would have been hard. And I was training. I was a paladin, did you know? Oh, yes, you do. I wrote to you.” She takes a hesitant breath. “The letters were for you. I wrote them _to_Falren, but _for_you.” She reaches up to brush the shining honey-colored hair. “I knew Falren would give you a good life when I couldn’t.” She smooths a clump of hair between her thumb and forefinger. “Oh! He was blond. Your father. He was blond.” Alisbeth frowns. “I’m really sorry I can’t remember. My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

Diori shakes her head and looks into her mother’s face. “Grimory said _he_was my father. He seemed really certain.” She frowns and pulls her ears back. “And you wanted to be a paladin more than you wanted to be my mother…”

“No. No. That’s not what I mean.” Frustrated tears drip from her eyes. “Why are you twisting my words? That’s not what I said.” She grips the murloc tighter. “I don’t know who that is, but he’s lying, okay? We just have to find the letter.”

Diori’s eyes soften with understanding at the woman’s erratic behavior. “He didn’t sound like he was lying. He said…that if you’d told him about me…” She swallows and shakes her head, turning to Alisbeth again. “I think _you’re_lying.”

Alisbeth shakes her head. “I’m not _lying!_Why would I lie?” She gets up from the bed and throws the murloc across the room. “I don’t know who you talked to, but he was lying. You shouldn’t trust people you don’t know. I don’t know anyone named…whatever that name was.” She fumes and wipes her cheeks, then picks up a large vase, lifts it over her head, and hurls it across the room to shatter against the wall. “_I’m not lying!_”

Diori flinches and looks up at the woman with a mixture of fear and determination. “What happened to you? You aren’t the Ali from the letters…”

Alisbeth balls her fists. “But I am._I am!_” She goes to the mirror and sets her hands on her face, squishing it around. “It’s not the same as it was, but this face is still mine.” She crumbles. “They took my face,” she whispers. “The forsaken took my life. Thassarian brought me back, but not my face. He couldn’t find it, I suppose. I was too angry, so Mograine had to put me in a room. A big metal room with no windows and one door. And they locked the door. And they took my sight.” She covers her eyes and whispers, “So dark. So dark.” Without warning she glares at the mirror and punches it. It shatters and the glass falls to the floor. After a moment staring at it Alisbeth frowns and grows apprehensive. “Oh, no. No… Antonym just replaced that. She’s going to be so sad.” She stoops and begins picking up the pieces, one little shard at a time as she collects them in her other palm.

Diori pulls her knees to her chest as she watches her mother pace the room and break things. She swallows, hugging the plush tightly to herself. She watches the woman pick up the shattered mirror for a long while before slowly climbing down off the bed and crossing the room. She frowns and bends at the waist to hug the death knight about her shoulders. “I forgive you.”

Alisbeth stops moving and holds as still as a statue. She stares at the glass on the floor and in her palm. She turns her head and looks at the girl who would soon begin taking the shape of a woman. Then she looks back at the glass as a tear drips from one eye. The death knight drops the glass back to the floor and turns to tentatively wrap her arms around Diori. “I’m so sorry. I want to take it all back, okay? I shouldn’t have sent you away. We could’ve lived on a farm and had so much fun. I wouldn’t have met any of my new friends…but maybe that’s okay. No Koltira, or Grim, Or Afro.” She gasps and holds Diori at a short distance to look at her. “We could still do that! Me and you. What do you say? We can go and see if we can find the farm and I can tell your father and you can meet him. I hope I can remember it’s him when I see him.” She takes a calming breath and smiles. “I’m sorry. I’m blithering. I just…there hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by when I haven’t thought about you.”

Diori gives a sad smile and shrugs. “I don’t know. I…I like my life with father and…or I guess _great_–_uncle and cousins_. I-I don’t want to leave them. They take good care of me.” She frowns. _Maybe if you were the Ali you used to be…_

Alisbeth frowns and turns away to start picking up the shards of mirror again. “Oh. Right. Stupid idea. I’m just a stranger. That would be c-cr…crazy.” She balls her fists at the word. The death knight blinks and uncurls her left hand. “Oh, no. I’ve gone and made a mess,” she says as blood oozes from the countless cuts into her palm and fingers, then drips to the floor. “This won’t do, this won’t do at all.” She begins picking the slivers from her hand and dropping them into a nearby vase for collection. “Excuse me, sweetheart. Mommy just had a little accident.” She smiles lovingly at Diori, her face set in sudden sanity.


	4. Chapter 4

Grimory opens the door to Alisbeth’s room and blinks at the sight of Alisbeth on the floor, hand bloody and dripping, and Diori watching with a face of confusion and concern. He steps over, pulling his ears back. “What happened here?” he asks calmly, bending down to look at Alisbeth’s hand.

“She broke the mirror,” Diori says, tears welling in her eyes.

Alisbeth bites her bottom lip and smiles brightly at Grimory. “Hi, Grim! Don’t worry about this, I had a small accident. But I’m cleaning it up. Don’t worry.” She picks out a few large shards then scrutinizes him. “You left pretty quickly and missed some stuff.” She reaches for Diori’s hair to stroke it, then sees the blood on her fingertips and stops. “This is Diori. She’s…” Alisbeth finds that she can’t say it to him quite as easily, so she stares at her hand to distract herself with picking out shards. “She’s my daughter.”

Grimory sighs and kneels to help her remove glass from her palm. “I know she is, Ali. She’s mine, too.” He glances up at her face to see her reaction.

Diori hugs the fae dragon closer to herself with one arm and bends down to help pick up the shards, but stops when Grimory leans over to interfere. “I won’t get hurt,” she mumbles, but refrains all the same. She steps over to Taveth and reaches for his hand, fidgeting as she watches the two who would be her parents together on the floor.

Alisbeth’s brow furrows. “No. He was a farmer. And he was sweet and so kind.” She purses her lips. “And I lied to him. About my name and where I was from.” She pauses in picking out the glass and smiles at some memory. “I wanted him to visit me…but he never did. If he’d come to Southshore or Lordaeron.” She looks over at Diori. “Things would be so different.”

Her words pierce his heart and Grimory grits his teeth. “I wanted to come see you, but I didn’t know how long you’d be there. And you said you’d be busy…training for lieutenant. I asked around but nobody had heard of you.” He frowns over at her, though she’s not looking. “If you’d just given me your real name…”

Alisbeth stares at Grimory for a long time. “You’re making that up. You’re thinking of that story I told you. It wasn’t you.”

A sort of desperation crosses Grimory’s features and he doesn’t turn away. Eyes on hers, he swallows and sets a tentative palm atop her thigh, lowering his voice. “Now?”

Alisbeth’s face turns slowly into a frown, then to surprise as her eyebrows lift with revelation. Then her eyes well with tears. “You didn’t visit me. I would have heard something. Tirion knew my mother’s name, he would have told me. Why didn’t you visit me?”

“You made it sound like it’d be a waste of my time if I had,” Grimory retorts. “I figured you’d given me a false name so I asked around hoping to find your real one so I could send you a letter and have some sort of way to speak to you without…bothering you.”

Alisbeth purses her lips. “I didn’t think you wanted to. And I gave you my mother’s name because I didn’t know how far _mine_ had traveled. Do you know what it’s like being a Redblade? The second anyone knows my name they stare at me with these great expectations and they want to chat about my father and how I have big shoes to fill. For one day, with you, I wasn’t the daughter of a Stormwind captain. I wasn’t some girl expected to be great and do great things.” She presses her bloody palms to her face scratching at the skin there with the shards of glass. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again.”

Taveth purses his lips. “That’s how you knew,” he says to Grimory. “You heard Diori’s name and were out the door.”

He nods to Taveth and quickly pulls Alisbeth’s hands away from her face. “That’s right. And _I_ thought you didn’t want to see _me_ again! You were this beautiful paladin woman and I was… I was just a farmboy. That’s why you didn’t even tell me, isn’t it? You didn’t think I could do it.”

The death knight wipes her nose on her sleeve and squints at nothing, again calling on the memories of the time. “I, um, I was too sick to go anywhere. Tirion wouldn’t let me. He said I couldn’t ride my horse anymore and I had to stay in bed. So I did. And everything I ate I just threw up again.” She wipes her eyes and stares up at him. “By the time I _could_… She was already in Stormwind and Tirion was taking me to Lordaeron.”

Grimory scowls sternly down at her. “You, however, _knew_ my name _and_ where I lived. You never sent me anything. Never attempted to contact me.”

Alisbeth frowns and brings her legs up to bury her face in her knees. “I wrote at least a dozen letters. I burned them all because I was afraid, and they sounded so stupid. But then I did send one. When I wasn’t so sick anymore…” She lifts her face to give him a look like a kicked puppy. “Tirion said you didn’t want anything to do with me.” She buries her face into her knees again to cry.

Grimory scowls again. “I never received anything, Ali. And if I had I certainly wouldn’t have burned it.” He places a hand on her knee. “I promise you that.”

Taveth’s stomach rumbles and he purses his lips, wanting food but wanting to stay.

Diori tugs on Taveth’s hand. “We should leave them alone,” she whispers. “We can see them more tomorrow, can’t we?”

He clears his throat. “It’s getting near Diori’s bed time and we haven’t had dinner yet—”

“Oh!” Alisbeth jumps up as though she hasn’t a care in the world. “Here. My treat.” She reaches into the top drawer of her dresser, into a leather purse, and drops a handful of gold on the top of the dresser.

Taveth chuckles. “Redblade gold. Heh. Don’t mind if I do.” He scoops the gold into his satchel, then takes Diori’s hand to leave.

“The tavern downstairs has good food…I think… At least, that’s what people say.”

Diori gives a hesitant glance between the two and smiles. “It was nice meeting you.”

Grimory stands, brushing the glass from his breeches. He gives her a gentle smile. “You, too.”

Diori looks back up at Taveth. “I want cinnamon apples.”

Alisbeth smiles and goes to hug Diori, but stops on account of the blood. “Please come see me again? Please? I’ll keep your toys safe, okay?”

Taveth sets a hand on her shoulder. “Aribbet, don’t worry. We’re definitely coming back to visit.” He smiles at Diori. “Let’s get you those apples.” He leads her from the room, and closes the door quietly behind them.

Alisbeth frowns, keeping her back to Grimory as she realizes they’re alone now.

He sighs and goes to sit on the bed, which puffs under his weight. “What a mess,” he grumbles, rubbing his hands down his face and glancing down at the army of plush dolls to his right. He chuckles and glances back up at Alisbeth’s back. “We…made a cute kid, yeah?”

She stares at her gashed palm; a few slivers of glass still sit inside her skin. She goes back to the vase and works to pull them out while mulling over everything from that day. “Why didn’t you visit me, though? I would’ve kept her…if…”

“I went to Southshore to look. Asked around and again no one knew who I was taking about.” He sighs.

She sucks in a ragged breath. “Have you known this whole time that it was me?”

“No. You…looked familiar when we were in Helheim. But it didn’t come back to me until I heard that name again.”

Alisbeth rubs her nose vigorously. “I, um, I wasn’t that kind of girl… You were the first. Ever.” She lets her hair fall down as a curtain, shielding her from judgment. “I know it was probably just some…thing to you. Meaningless. But for me…I felt like we had a connection. Something beyond the physical… I wanted to talk to you. I really did. I would have left the academy if you’d asked me to, child or not.” She forces herself to look at him. “I would have left it all,” she whispers.

Grimory’s eyes widen slightly. “None of that is true. If it didn’t mean anything I wouldn’t have even tried to find you again. Wouldn’t have asked to see you. Wouldn’t have made special trips solely for the purpose of tracking you down.” He sobers and holds out a hand for her. “I wouldn’t have asked that of you. I’m not worth giving up your dreams.”

She looks at him, her crying renewed, but for a different reason. “Y-you wanted me?”

Grimory says nothing but looks into her eyes from across the room and gives a single, slow nod. She stares at her hand, concentrating on finding more glass that isn’t there. Even her mind is quiet as she mulls over everything, trying to understand what it all means and wondering where she should go from here.

“I asked for two months,” Grimory says hesitantly, looking down at his own hands. “I regret never going to Lordaeron like I said I wanted to.” He pulls in his lower lip to chew on it for a moment. “We’d be so different of I had.”

She sniffs and rubs at her eye. “The people of Southshore didn’t spend much time around me. I don’t think they liked me. If you had asked Tirion, he knew my mother’s name. He would have told me.”

Grimory holds out his hand for her, gesturing for her to join him on the bed. “What did this Tirion guy look like?”

On her way to joining him on the bed, she reaches into her dresser and pulls out a sock to wrap around her hand. She takes a seat and smiles, remembering Tirion from so long ago. “When he was young, when I met him, he had long brown hair and a beard with a mustache. His armor was gleaming silver and gold. He had this presence about him that demanded respect. You couldn’t miss him.”

Grimory chews on the information and narrows his eyes at the floor. “I remember a man in gold and silver. Obviously he said he didn’t know a Diori, because no one I asked said they did.” He grabs at her hand to remove the sock and observe the damage.

Alisbeth shakes her head. “That can’t have been Tirion. He would have told me.” She gives him an insistent smile. “He always had my best interests at heart. Always. He would have told me.”

Grimory shrugs and tosses the sock aside. “Maybe he didn’t liked me. How I looked. Maybe he thought that _was_ what was best for you.” He stands and goes to the attached washroom. When he returns, he unwinds a roll of medical gauze and gestures for her hand.

Alisbeth bites her lip, studying the man as he binds her hand. His determination strikes a familiar chord in her mind, and suddenly she can see the young elf who’d fixed Bloodmane’s shoe. She sets her fingertips under his chin to look at his face. “I remember you now,” she whispers. “You’re the one that time swallowed. My greatest regret in life was not seeing you again. And if it was Tirion that prevented that… Mustn’t speak ill of the dead.”

Grimory ties off the bandage and looks down into her face again. He clenches his jaw and brings his fingers up to brush against the underside of her arm. “Mine, too.” He takes up a seat beside her again, a hand on her leg. “If you’d stayed or if I’d have found you again, I’d have never gone to war.”

She frowns. “I signed up for every battle that needed to be fought. I tried to just…forget. I thought if I was too tired to think… It didn’t help. So I signed up for the Northrend voyage, hoping getting away from the area entirely would help.” She sets her hand on his and leans against him.

Grimory sighs and sets his chin atop her head. “I just wish I’d known. She probably hates us.”

“She was trying to tell me you told her, I think. But I didn’t recognize the name.” She presses the heel of her palm into the side of her head, then hits it a few times. “I just want to remember things. I don’t remember your name. You’re just Grim. I don’t think she hates you. It’s all my fault. She hates me. I wanted to take her to find your farm and she didn’t…she didn’t want to go with me.”

The Illidari quickly puts his hand between hers and her face so that she strikes his knuckles instead. “I wouldn’t expect her to. Not right away, anyway.” A smile crosses his lips. “Mother and father will be ecstatic to know they’re grandparents.” He chuckles some. “And it’s Grimory Silversong. I’ll tell you as many times as you need me to.”

Alisbeth sits up suddenly. “Would you like to meet my father?” She smiles wide, her eyes large with excitement.

Grimory’s brow furrows and he pauses. “Uh…”

The death knight jumps up and drags him to his feet. “Come on!” She leads him out the door and to the bank, where the goblin lets her inside her vault. “This vault is so much bigger, see? He was hidden in the other one. I bet you didn’t notice him in the corner.” She lets go of Grimory’s hand and walks to a stand at the center of the room. A sheet drapes over a bulky item. She smiles at it and sets her hand to the middle. “Daddy, I want you to meet Grim… Um… Grimo…” Her face scrunches in frustration.

He stops a few paces into the vault, looking at the veiled object with a slightly horrified concern. “Grimory,” he mumbles in correction, unmoving.

Alisbeth casts a shy smile on Grimory. “I’ve…never shown anyone before.” With obvious hesitation, she grips the sheet and lifts it, then throws it back. Beneath is a battered suit of Stormwind armor. A long slice cuts through the breastplate and the tabard, bowing out to indicate a sword through the back. The brown stain of blood still mars the cloth. She bites her lip and smiles. “I miss him so much.”

Grimory runs his eyes over the armor and takes a step closer to examine it further. “Ali, I’m sorry.” He places a hand on her shoulder. “It looks like he died a soldier’s death. Very honorable.”

She smiles at him. “He did. They told me that mother tried to save him. She killed the orc that stabbed him in the back like a coward. His wounds were too great.” She thinks for a long time about it, then frowns. “She was so brave. She didn’t lose her mind, just went back to the battle to keep others safe. She saved so many lives that day… Fire swept over that half of the battlefield and her body was lost to the flames. There was nothing left for me to keep.” A tear trails down her cheek and she shrugs, smiling as though it isn’t a big deal.

Grimory sobers and takes her into his arms. “They’d be proud of you.”

Alisbeth bites into her bottom lip and wraps her arms around him. “Do you really think so? Even now?”

The demon hunter nods and smiles down at her. “Even now. I’m sure they’re watching down on you from the stars, smiling and admiring what a strong, caring woman you’ve become.”

Alisbeth sighs and throws the sheet back over the armor. “Maybe.” She presses her hands to the sides of her head. “I don’t sleep, but I feel like I could for several days. Today has not been good. Well, there were good parts, but it was mostly just _awful_.”

Grimory gives a small laugh and places an arm around her shoulders to turn her toward the door. “It has been kind of a shit day. Let’s find a healer for that hand, yeah? Or maybe you want to do some of that vampiric stuff?”

She leans her head on his shoulder, handing the key over to the goblin as they leave the vault. “A healer is fine. No priests or paladins. They hurt. A lot.”

He leads her to the town medical building. A kind pandaren monk heals up Alisbeth’s hand and waves away the gold Grimory offers in return. “So,” he says when they’re back in the streets. “What do you want to do? About…all this, I mean.”

Alisbeth bites her lip and takes Grimory’s hand. “Just because I didn’t want it _then_…doesn’t mean I can’t want it _now_, does it?”

“Want what, exactly?” he asks, enjoying the cooling evening breeze.

She chews on her lips for a long time as she thinks. “Everything I missed out on…” She blushes a deeper shade of blue and turns away.

Grimory frowns some and turns to look straight ahead. “No, it doesn’t mean you can’t want it now. I…” he sighs, “I have a job to do, however. Perhaps when the war is over…”

She releases his hand and frowns. “Oh. Right. Okay.” She stops in the middle of the street and stares at the cobblestones. “I need to go…wash my hair…I guess.” She doesn’t wait for a response, just takes off running back to her room in the inn. She frowns at the toys on the bed, then curls up at the foot without disturbing any.

“W— Ali, hold—” Grimory blinks after her—unsure of what he’s done wrong, as usual.


	5. Chapter 5

Alisbeth uncurls from her spot at the bottom of the bed as the sun streams in through the windows. With a sigh, she finishes cleaning up the broken glass and carts the vase down to the tavern to ask the innkeeper to dispose of it for her.

“Breaking things up there?” he asks.

“Only my things. Aphro usually fixes them for me. But I don’t want her to know I broke the mirror.”

He raises his eyebrows and nods as he would to a child. “Oh, right! Okay. Our little secret.”

She grins and sits on a stool to watch him go back to work.

Grimory steps into the Legerdemain Lounge, skin still glistening from his morning shower. He makes for the stairs but stops when he sees the death knight already on the ground floor. “Oh. There you are.” He steps over with a smile. “Good morning.”

Alisbeth’s smile fades the littlest bit. It turns into a strange pained smile as her excitement to see him is dulled by his rejection of her. “H-hi…Grim.”

He immediately notices the nuance in her behavior and his smile falls as well. He suddenly remembers the night before and her abrupt abandoning of him. “Oh. Right. Did I say something wrong?”

She fidgets, her eyes flicking up to glance at him before continuing to avoid actually looking at him. “You said good morning… Is it a good morning?”

Grimory sits beside her, lowering his head to look into her face. “Oh, no, I’m not letting this go. What did I do?”

Alisbeth folds her arms and shrugs. “You said you wanted me back then. Then you said you’re too busy now. So… I should just stay out of your way until the war is over. I can do that. I can stay away.” She hops off the stool and heads for her room.

Grimory quickly gets to his feet before she has a chance to escape and grabs her gently by the arm. “No no no, hold on a moment. I never said that. I—” He blinks. “Is this about last night? That’s not what I meant.”

“But that’s what you _said_.” She purses her lips at him.

“That’s not what I _meant_. I thought you were talking about going to find some place to live together, not what we were doing right _now_.”

Alisbeth’s gaze sweeps around the tavern, then her eyes narrow. “Talking?”

Grimory turns to look about the tavern as though following her gaze will offer some sort of clue. He looks back at her when he understands. “No, I—” He grunts in frustration then lowers his voice. “Ali, I want to be with you. That hasn’t changed.”

Alisbeth’s face scrunches in thought. She reaches up to grab Grimory by the horn and drags him back to her room. She forces him to sit on the bed, then goes back to close the door. “I don’t want a fucking farm. That’s not what I wanted. I don’t know anything about animals. I don’t eat them. I don’t _eat_. I _like_ fighting alongside you and adventures and fun. You know all this. Why would you think I wanted to settle down?”

Grimory opens his mouth to respond but she’s already ranting at him from the other side of the room. “I just—”

She rushes over to straddle his lap and wrap her arms behind his head. She presses a furious kiss on his lips. “You’re so confusing.” She kisses him again. “Stop it.” She kisses him again.

His sentence is disrupted by her kisses and he sighs. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. When their lips part, he gives a breathless chuckle. “Not even in a couple hundred years?”

She furrows her brow. “You really think you can stand me for a couple hundred years? I mean…Koltira gave up after less than one.”

Grimory _pfft_s and rolls his eyes. “No offense to ol’ Kolt, but he has no idea how to handle someone like you.”

She straightens and stares at him. “And how _do_ you handle someone like me?”

Grimory chuckles darkly and grabs her by the arms, throwing her onto the bed beside him, then pinning her there. “Very roughly.”

Alisbeth giggles happily, then stops. “Oh, be careful. Don’t break any of Diori’s toys.” She smiles at him. “I think she likes them.”

He cocks his head to look at the stuffed animals. Suddenly uncomfortable from their gaze, he releases her and picks up one of the dolls—a pretty little gnome with a big head of purple hair and a flowing dress to match. He scrunches his nose and sets it back. “We should get her a sparring sword. I think she’d like that.”

Alisbeth frowns as he releases her. “We could. But…do you really think she’d like that? Really? Because…I would have loved a sparring sword at her age. But by then I was already at the Academy and training with the Redblade.”

“I do think so.” Grimory winces as she pulls him back down by a horn.

“I don’t regret these…” She laughs quietly as she smooths her palms over his horns.

He lifts his brows as he looks down into her face. “Regret these what?” he asks, oblivious.

Alisbeth urges him forward with a hand on each horn until their noses are touching. “These. Your horns. I regret not seeing you again…but I like these.” She flicks her tongue out like a snake to lick his lips, then grins.

“Well, at least one of us doesn’t regret them, then.” The Illidari chuckles. After a moment, he kisses her with a restrained longing, pressing his chest against hers and bringing a hand up to cradle her jaw.

Alisbeth moans against his lips. “You regret them?” She asks after a while.

Grimory swallows and nods. “It was a very permanent decision made by a very unsure kid.” He kisses her again, then glances once more at the toys. Scowling, he sits up. “Can we, like, put those elsewhere?”

Alisbeth laughs through her nose at his discomfort. “Do they really, really bother you?” She glances at them and sneers in her own discomfort. “There’s too many eyes,” she whispers. “I didn’t look at the eyes before…” She scrambles out from under Grimory and grabs an armful of toys, careful not to smash the more delicate ones. “In here!” She tears open the doors of her armoire and drops the toys into the bin at the bottom.

Grimory turns and falls onto the bed, arms outstretched. He gives a sigh, the unease subsiding. “Thank you.”

Once all the toys are situated, Alisbeth closes the armoire door and sighs. “Better.” She goes to the bed and crawls across it on all fours to smile down at the demon hunter. “You’re welcome.”

Grimory smiles up at her, eyes scanning her face. He reaches up to touch it. “I was really your first?”

Alisbeth bites her bottom lip and blushes as she averts her gaze from his. “Yes. I don’t know what came over me. I’d never even gone past a kiss—just one, mind you—and then you…” She sits back on her heels and runs nervous fingers through her hair. “I wasn’t that kind of girl.”

Grimory gives an airy laugh and rests the back of his head in his hands. “I could tell, to be honest. You wouldn’t even look at my cock. It was so cute. _You_ were so cute.” He sighs and looks up at her, imagining the face he’d seen fifty years ago. “You still are.”

Alisbeth makes a face. “Am not.” She takes a deep breath and curls up beside him. “Thank you…for not pointing it out. I think I would have left. It would have been embarrassing.” She swirls her fingers over his tattoos. “And thank you for being so gentle.”

“Any man who forces himself on a woman deserves to be flayed and lynched.” Grimory says pointedly, snaking his arm beneath her to pull her closer. “But you’re welcome all the same. And thank _you_ for not saying _yes_.”

She snuggles into him and smiles. “I don’t mean forcing. I mean, the way you touched me. The way you held me. You could have just fucked me and been done. But it felt like you were m-making…” She turns her head away as though he can see her true feelings in her eyes if she says the word.

“You looked like you deserved that kind of feeling,” Grimory says, bringing a finger up to lift her face again. “And, believe it or not, I wasn’t really a _just fuck them and be done_ kind of person, then.”

Alisbeth leans to set her lips near enough to feel his breath. “What if part of me misses that guy?”

_Part of me misses that guy, too._ Grimory gives her a sad smile and closes the short distance between their lips in place of a response.

She melts against his lips and reaches her hands to his belt. She undoes the clasp, then stops, pulling away from the kiss to smile at him and whisper, “Do you want me to stop?”

Grimory smiles, amused by her wit. “No,” he says in an equally hushed tone.

Alisbeth pulls the belt away and drops it to the floor. Her fingers set to work untying his pants as she kisses him again and again.

Grimory grabs at her wrist by his waist. He rolls over her so that he’s on his hands and knees, hands on either side of her head. He looks into her face for another moment— her cheekbones, her pointed nose, white hair splayed about her head—and pushes his lips into hers again with an uncharacteristic yearning.

Alisbeth wraps her arms around his neck and holds him close, the fingers of one hand weaving through his hair. _I miss the long hair._ “Mm-hmm.”

The kisses continue, long and passionate, for a long while before the Illidari’s hand travels down Alisbeth’s front and to the hem of her pants where it pulls at the ties, making easy work of the knot.

~ * ~

Koltira stares out at the forest around them as the sun rises somewhere beyond the trees. The fog concealing Anarchaia and himself begins to burn away. He props on an elbow and stares at her. “I could get used to a morning view like this.”

Anarchaia pushes her hair out of her face and turns to smile up at him. She interlaces her fingers atop her stomach and glances at the sky. “Yeah, this spot is really beautiful,” she responds, dreamy and oblivious.

“Mmm,” Koltira hums, smiling at her ignorance. He sets a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Please tell me we have a day to relax? No business of any kind?”

The mage reaches up to cradle his face in her palm, skeletal thumb brushing his cheek. “No,” she says with a content demeanor, unbothered by the cool morning air. “Not unless there’s something you need done.”

Koltira turns his head to kiss the bone of her thumb. “Nothing at all. I’m all yours…if you want.”

Anarchaia blushes and bites the side of her lip. “I _do_ want.” She lifts the same hand to brush his hair behind a long ear.

“Why don’t we do something? Just the two of us. Lady’s choice.” He brushes away the white hair clinging to her forehead, then smiles into her eyes.

Anarchaia’s smile widens and she nods, sitting up slowly. “Yes. I would like that.” She brings a finger up to tap on her chin in thought. “The lady wants…to drink wine and watch the sunset, somewhere high up. I don’t care where.” She crawls over to kiss him. “The rest of the day we can spend here.”

Koltira moans into her kisses. “And what does the lady demand we do _here_ all day?”

“We have to do things?” she says against his lips, continuing to press kisses into them.

He smiles against her lips and chuckles. “Well, I can get pretty boring.” He kisses her long and deep. “I mean, we could just stay out here forever. Forage for food we’re not going to eat. Hunt animals we don’t intend to kill. Run around naked like wild beasts.”

“I don’t bore easily.” Anarchaia runs a finger over the scar and through the narrow valley of his chest, over the lump in his throat, up his chin, then taps his nose. “As magical as that sounds, we both have duties to uphold.” She sighs and collapses into his lap, cheek to his chest. “Otherwise I’d do so in a heartbeat.”

Koltira groans and flops back into the grass, Anarchaia dropping down with him, and covers his face with his hands as though he can hide from what needs to be done. “Speaking of duties…”

She tilts her head to look up at him but does not lift it. “Is there something you’ve forgotten to do?”

“Ali,” he mutters behind his hands. “I can’t just…say nothing.”

Anarchaia sobers and tilts her head back down. “Oh. Well, I mean, saying nothing _is_ an option. Heh.”

Koltira shakes his head and looks down at the mage on his chest. “And _lie_? And then have to deal with that face you make every time she comes anywhere near me? No, Ana. It has to be done.”

“How do you know what face I make?” she mumbles to herself. She shakes her head and rolls over to sit atop him, giving a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right beside you.”

Koltira sticks his tongue into his cheek and raises his eyebrows at her. “First, you frown. Then your shoulders hunch like you’re hiding something. And finally, you turn your back so you don’t have to look.” He pokes her on the nose, then sets his hands on her waist to drag her face up to his so he can look into her eyes better. “And, no. You shouldn’t be there with me. First, it’s my responsibility. Second, there’s no telling what she’ll do if you’re there. Don’t worry, I won’t let her try to kill me.”

Anarchaia purses her lips as she’s exposed on her behaviors, then looks away as if she doesn’t want to believe him. She looks into his face and bites her lip. Her brow furrows upward and she shakes her head after a moment. “I don’t like that. She’ll be violent and we both know you won’t hit her back. She’ll have you at her mercy. Please let me be near at least.”

“Outside the door good enough?”

Anarchaia gives a slow nod, though the concern on her face lingers.

“It’ll be fine, Ana. Stop worrying!” He gives her a little shake and kisses her forehead.

The mage gives an apprehensive groan and nods again. “Okay, okay. I trust you.” She puts her head on his and closes her eyes. “If you let her kill you again, I’ll kill you.”

Koltira chuckles and kisses her. “All right. Deal.” He sighs and sits up. “I guess the sooner the better?”

Anarchaia pouts and pushes her face into his neck, refusing to move. “I _guessss_…” she groans yet remains still.

He wraps his arms around her and squeezes. “We can come back here after, if you like. Or go to another place. We do need to find that high summit to watch the sunset… Though I am rather worried you intend to push me off it.”

Anarchaia pulls her had away to give him a look of confusion and offense. “I pray you’re joking. I would never.”

Koltira laughs. “Oh, you would. I know you would. And you’d laugh. And then you’d blink down to me and make me float really slow the rest of the way.” He kisses her deeply as he continues to chuckle.

Anarchaia hums into his lips. When she pulls away she takes a moment to think then nods. “Okay, yes. That’s something I’d do, but that’s not the plan. Promise.” She stands to redress herself, brushing the dew-soaked grass off herself.

Koltira stands and brushes a piece of grass from her breast. “It was grass,” he says automatically. “I swear it was just grass. Not copping a feel.” He winks and pulls on his trousers. “Or was I?”

Anarchaia jumps in surprise, but flushes and smiles. She bends down to retrieve her own linen pants and brushes her hand on the inside of his thigh as she straightens. “Just some grass,” she says nonchalantly, turning away to tie the ties of her pants.

Koltira steps behind her and reaches between her thighs, cupping his hand around the area between her thighs through her trousers so he can lift her and press his nose into her cheek. “Just a little grass,” he whispers. “Honest.” He kisses her cheek and sets her down. Then pulls an actual piece of grass from her shoulder blade and flicks it away.

The mage’s face turns a dark shade of scarlet. She gives the smallest of titters and pulls her collar over her head. “You and I both know there’s no grass down there,” she mutters, pulling her shirt over and up to button it at her chest.

The tips of Koltira’s ears turn a darker shade as he catches the euphemism. He clears his throat. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Anarchaia turns back to him, false seriousness on her face as she pokes a bony finger gently into his chest. “I’m not calling you a truth-er.”

Koltira feigns haughty insult. “Well…” He spins around and bends to grab his shirt, secretly scooping some grass into his fist. He turns back to her, eyes narrowed and face serious. “I never lie. If I say there’s grass,” he hooks a finger in her waistband and pulls to provide room, then drops the grass inside, “there’s grass.” He grins evilly.

Anarchaia blinks down at herself, mouth agape. She huffs and sets her hands on her hips and purses her lips up at him, scoffing in equally faux insult. “You’d better undo what you just did.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow down at the mage. “Not a chance, darlin. You called me a liar. It hurt, Ana. Right here.” He sets his two index fingers on either side of the scar in the middle of his chest. “A little worse on the right, in fact.”

Anarchaia narrows her eyes and raises her shoulders, her scowl deepening. “Perhaps I’ll just turn you into a _grazing_ animal, then. You’d make the cutest sheep, _darlin’_.” She lifts her hands and smirks.

Koltira’s eyes narrow to slits. “I had no idea you felt that way about barn animals. But if you insist…” He grabs her in one arm, pressing her chest to his, then reaches his other hand down her pants to retrieve every blade of grass one at a time, his smile growing slyer as he dips his hand back into her waistband.

Anarchaia bites her lip to resist the noises rising in her throat. She breathes quietly through her nose and smiles. “Thank you,” she says, attempting to sound haughty but the words come out slower and sultrier than she anticipates.

Koltira reaches deeper to grab one final blade. He pauses to kiss her. “It was my pleasure.” He withdraws his hand slowly, then discards the grass. “Or was it yours?”

The mage’s breath hitches in her throat and she gives a shy yet coy smile. “False dilemma,” she mumbles and turns away to dry off her robes and attempt to tie the back of her top.

Koltira’s fingers push Anarchaia’s aside and work to tie the shirt. He leans forward to kiss the side of her neck. “Just one quick stop and then I’m all yours.” He wraps his arms around her from behind and sighs, wondering if he’s more excited than she is. He stares at his gear. “Do you mind just sending that away? I’ll thank you for it later.” He winks and pulls on his boots, kneeling to buckle them

Anarchaia gives a small nod, smile unwavering. She lifts the items briefly into the air before they disappear in a flutter of violet sparkles. She buttons her gloves on and throws her robes over her head. Picking up her mask, her grin widens. Her heart flutters as she glances over her shoulder at the elf behind her, and she pulls the mask over her head and face. “All set?”

He tugs his shirt on and pulls his long hair from inside, running fingers through to make sure there aren’t any blades of grass clinging to the strands. Without waiting, he threads his finger through hers. “Back to Dalaran then?”

Anarchaia nods and pulls a stray piece of grass from his shirt. “Don’t let go,” she says, grasping both of his hands in hers. When the duo reappears, they’re standing at the base of the steps inside the Legerdemain Lounge.

“You know you can’t do that, Ana,” says Arille Azuregaze behind the bar, but the blood elf man merely smiles and shakes his head.

Anarchaia gives him a sheepish grin. “Sorry. No more. Promise!”

Koltira shakes his head, feigning disgust. “Ana, I’m ashamed. Truly. You’re a damned menace.” He winks and rushes up the steps, laughing, before she can respond.

Anarchaia shrugs and titters then follows him up the stairs. “Perhaps punishment is in order,” she whispers so that her voice won’t carry through the doors.

He leans close to her, a stern look on his face. “Swift and severe, Miss Starling. You’re not getting off easy.” He turns from her and takes a calming breath. “Wish me luck.” He opens the door, then stops in his tracks.

Alisbeth lies naked on the bed, her thumbs hooked through Grimory’s trousers and about to pull them down. They kiss with such passion that unwarranted jealousy flairs inside the death knight’s chest. He clears his throat as loud as possible.

Alisbeth opens her eyes to look across the room at Koltira, rolls them, then closes her eyes and returns her concentration to Grimory.

Anarchaia’s hands fly to her mouth and she reflexively takes a step back into the shadows of the hallway. “_Ohmygods,_” she whispers.

Grimory’s eyes flick open at the sound of the man in the doorway. He immediately straightens while quickly throwing the corner of the comforter over Alisbeth. “Honestly, don’t people knock anymore? I know you have a key and all, but—” He quickly grabs at his pants as Alisbeth attempts to pull them down as though they didn’t have an audience. “_Ali_,” he hisses in a whisper, stepping away and tying the laces again. He turns back to Koltira. “What is it?”

Koltira blinks away the shock and reminds himself of why he’s there and why he has no right to even think about yelling at either of them. He straightens to act unfazed. “I need to talk to Alisbeth.”

The death knight sits up, holding the blanket over herself and stretching for the demon hunter. “Busy. Come back later.”

His eyes narrow. “No. Now. It’s important.”

Grimory rolls his eyes and holds Alisbeth’s hand for a brief moment as though to say he won’t be far, then sweeps from the room without a word.


	6. Chapter 6

Alisbeth glares at Koltira as he closes the door. “It really couldn’t wait?”

“No.” He contemplates asking her to dress, but realizes that nude she might be less inclined to get up from the bed, if she’s having a shy moment. He walks to the other side of the room where others are less likely to overhear. “Ali, I think it’s time we talk about…everything that’s happened since I got out of Undercity.”

She leans back against the pillows and blinks at him, but says nothing.

“I’m sure I don’t need to detail everything. But…finding out you kept your own daughter secret from me? Ali…I…”

“I want to separate.”

He furrows his brow at her. “What?”

“I want to separate. I’ve been thinking about it off and on. I’m of sound mind and I know what I want. I have the ribbon from our marriage in my vault. We cut that and we’re done.” She stares at his state of stunned silence. “Unless that’s not what _you_want? I mean, both parties have to be in agreement.”

“This was not how I envisioned this conversation going… I was going to tell you that I wanted to separate…” He leans back and folds his arms. “Well this is astonishingly easy.”

Alisbeth beams. “I’m _so glad_you agree! And now you don’t have to feel guilty about mage-face, and she and I can be friends without it being weird! And you don’t have to worry about me at all. You can finally get back into fletching!” She stands and pulls on her clothes. “And we should have a party! Like, a wedding reception, but…a separation reception!” She leaps forward and hugs him. “We can stay friends, right? Does it work like that?”

Koltira blinks in rapid succession. “Uhh…” He has a split moment of cold feet, wondering if it’s the wrong decision. But then Alisbeth pulls away and gives him the most excited smile. _Gods help me, I still can’t resist doing anything to make her happy. At least this time we agree._He nods. “You know what, why not? We can stay friends. Ana is your guardian, so she doesn’t really have a choice in seeing you or not, but I’m sure she’d love to be your friend, too.”

~ * ~

“Hi,” Anarchaia says with an awkward wave of her hand.

The Illidari purses his lips and looks away. “Hi, Ana.”

“So did you talk with your little girl?” Anarchaia says after the door closes.

Grimory nods, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. “She’s not too comfortable with us yet.” He sighs, doing his best not to eavesdrop through the door only feet away.

“Give her time,” the mage responds, pushing her mask up to give a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she’s just confused. She’ll come around.”

Grimory glances over at the woman who was once his close friend and finds he can’t remain irritated. “I hope your right,” he says in a softer tone. “I didn’t even know she existed until yesterday, but, now that I do, I would do anything for her. It’s…the strangest feeling.”

A pang of envy strikes through Anarchaia’s chest but she forces a smile. “Your brain produces chemicals that coerce you into wanting your offspring to survive. It’s instinct, if anyth—”

“Yeah, okay, thanks Ana,” Grimory interrupts, the irritation immediately returning.

Anarchaia shrinks, fidgeting with her fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just…really happy for you.”

“Well, I appreciate it.”

An awkward silence lingers between them and after a long moment, Grimory chews on the inside of his cheek. “Have you told him about you and the old man?”

Anarchaia blinks, blindsided. “Wh—?” She swallows and grows cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Grimory rolls his eyes and allows another silence to grow.

Alisbeth opens the door so fast it slams against the wall and she leaps at the two in the hallway. Koltira stands in the doorway to observe.

Anarchaia flinches, bracing herself for either impact or pain, but the Illidari quickly plucks Alisbeth from the air and pulls her back to him, more in a gesture of affection than of defense of the mage.

“All good?” he asks.

“We’re having a _party!_” she squeals. She jumps up and down. “It’s a separation reception. I don’t know if it’s a thing but Kolty said we can have one! And we’re going to drink until we’re stupid and Affie is going to be my friend and we’re going to cut the ribbon—Oh! We need a,” she snaps her fingers in rapid succession as she thinks, “holy person, I think. Someone with high status has to witness. They don’t have to be holy, I don’t think. Where’s Tirion when you need him, right?” She laughs, then frowns, then bounces back to her excited state.

Anarchaia lowers her shoulders when she feels she won’t be hurt. “O-oh,” she says when Alisbeth is finished, her voice a mixture of nervous and relieved.

Grimory blinks down at the death knight, his eyes flicking up to Koltira as if to confirm the story. “Uh…great!” he says, giving her a smile. “I’m…happy? For you two?”

“The short version is, Alisbeth has asked me to separate from her. We’re going to cut the ribbon used in our marriage ceremony. She wanted to have a party afterward to celebrate. I like getting drunk, so, I see no harm in it,” Koltira says after closing the door.

Alisbeth nods excitedly. “I asked him. He said _yes!_” She claps, unable to contain herself. “Oh, and we need an authority. You forgot that part.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow in thought. “I…don’t really think any of the Archmages would bother filling their time with something like this. I mean, I can _ask_…”

Koltira shrugs. “Same with the Horsemen. Plus, we’d have to tell them.” He snaps his fingers. “Would Thassarian work?”

Alisbeth chews on her lip. “He is of high rank and is respected among the death knights…”

Anarchaia gives a shrug and smiles. “Whatever floats your boat. I’d like to meet him, besides.”

“And he was there, anyway! He was our witness!” Alisbeth smiles and threads her fingers through Grimory’s.

The Illidari gives Koltira a playful smirk. “Have you told him you’ve been cheating on him?”

Koltira notices the grip and things click into place. _They probably want to be a family…_He clears his throat and shoots the demon hunter a look. “Oh, yes. And he’s very upset. Made me sleep on the couch and everything.” He sobers and points at Alisbeth. “Get the ribbon—”

“We can just do it in the vault. No audience. Meet me in the north bank.” She takes off running and is gone before he can say anything else.

Koltira sighs after her. “Meet you all in the bank, then.” He opens a death gate and disappears inside.

Grimory and Anarchaia exchange looks before shrugging and following after Alisbeth. “You planning on marrying her instead?” the mage says when they step outside.

Grimory physically flinches as he jerks his head to look at her. “I—… No. Are you?”

“Planning on marrying Alisbeth?”

He glares over at her.

“No, Grim. I’m not,” she says with an air of understanding as they ascend the stairs to the north bank.

Alisbeth bounces on the balls of her feet, waiting for the others. She taps the key on her palm and chews on her bottom lip. “Grim! Over here!” She doesn’t wait for him to get to her and runs to leap into his arms. “Now no one has to feel guilty,” she whispers.

“Yes, this is all very convenient,” Grimory says with a chuckle. “In the best meaning of the word.”

Anarchaia avoids looking at the goblins as she passes, coming to stand near the couple. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to bring a bunch of people into your private vault?”

Alisbeth purses her lips at the mage. “Are you planning on stealing anything? I mean… my clothes are too big for you. You can take some gold, though. If you want. “

“N-no, Ali. I just—”

“You should probably take her up on that offer, Starling,” a goblin woman with a clipboard says in a sour tone. “Gods know you need it.”

Anarchaia shushes the woman with a hand and a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I’ll…take care of that soon. Promise.”

Alisbeth strides to the goblin and whispers in her ear.

The goblin looks at her. “You sure, doll?”

Alisbeth nods. “One hundred percent sure.” A paper and quill appear in front of Alisbeth.

“Sign at the bottom and we’ll get that taken care of after your business has concluded in your vault. What is it, a party?”

Alisbeth signs the paper and it poofs away. “Kind of! Just a private thing. Needed a private place.”

“You do know your vault is monitored by visual and audio security, right?” The goblin doesn’t even look up from her clipboard.

The death knight waves a hand of dismissal. “That’s okay. No big deal.”

Anarchaia makes to protest when she catches on to what Alisbeth is scheming, but the paperwork disappears before she can stop her. She deflates. “Ali, that wasn’t necessary…”

A death gate opens in the center of the bank. A human with long white hair, a bushy beard, and burgundy marks over his eyes steps out. “What in gods’ names is this nonsense I’m hearing, Redblade?”

Alisbeth laughs nervously. “Um, surprise?”

Grimory glances up at the man and says nothing, instead sizing him up silently as he does with all new acquaintances. “This Thassarian, I presume?” he says in a low tone into her ear.

“Bingo!” she hisses to Grimory. “He’s the guy that killed Koltira…and Edmond…and Merriel…and almost Faltora…and apparently his own mother… He’s really a great guy, though. Really.”

Koltira appears behind Thassarian and runs straight into his back. “_Why does no one move after stepping through!_” he demands.

Without turning his glare from Alisbeth, Thassarian reaches behind him, hooks his arm around Koltira’s head, and drags him around in a headlock. “Deathweaver, what is this nonsense? You’re_letting_her do this?”

Koltira squirms, trying to get free. “We’re actually both in agreement. It’s for the best.” He punches at Thassarian’s cuirass. “Can we settle this like men and not children, please?”

Alisbeth hops forward and takes the human’s hand. “This way. We’re going in my vault. I got a new vault! More room.”

“Oh, good. Your last one was so full, everything tried to kill me.” He follows her, Koltira still struggling to free himself from the headlock as he’s forced forward as well.

Alisbeth giggles and takes Grimory’s hand with her free one. “Yeah. Sorry. But, hey, thanks for taking care of it while I was, well, you know.” She grins at him.

Eyes wide, Grimory furrows his brow at Thassarian’s list of atrocities but says nothing, as he’s pulled along. Anarchaia smiles, feeling a tension from the man’s irritation that leaves anxiety in the pit of her stomach. She also says nothing, following behind the line they’ve made.

Once inside the vault, Thassarian releases Koltira and shoves him. “Okay, you two, talk. What changed.”

Alisbeth throws her arms up and smiles. “Me! I died. He doesn’t like it. But that’s okay. I don’t like being bossed around, anyway. Oh, and Diori. He can’t handle her.”

Koltira purses his lips at Alisbeth. “As always she’s describing it in the most misleading way possible.” He sighs. “We don’t work. It took Grimory pointing it out for me to realize it. Maybe we did, but now… After Undercity, we’re both different people.”

“And who the hell is Diori?” Thassarian asks.

“Her…daughter,” Grimory responds, suddenly afraid that the man will hit him if he admits.

“She’s your daughter, too,” Anarchaia mumbles from beneath her mask.

Thassarian raises his eyebrows at Alisbeth, then at the demon hunter. “That’s…literally impossible.”

“From fifty years ago,” Koltira says. “Apparently they knew each other…for a day…”

Alisbeth gives a weak laugh as Thassarian scrutinizes her.

After a moment, he shrugs. “Everybody has a _thing_now and then.” He growls. “I don’t like this.”

“We’re going to stay friends!” Alisbeth squeals. “I like having friends! And we’re having a party after this. Will you come to the party?”

Thassarian sighs. “If you insist.”

“It’ll be nice to meet the man these two have spoken so highly of…at length,” Anarchaia says with a smile that can’t be seen.

Grimory merely nods in agreement, still unsure of how to feel. “Should be fun. I’ll buy you an ale.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Grimory, by the way. Illidari. Farmboy.”

Thassarian laughs, his demeanor immediately shifting after the demon hunter introduces himself. “Thassarian. Death Knight. Farmboy.”

“Well met,” Grimory says with a nod and a smile.

“Koltira didn’t really say much about you two. Especially not you.” He motions at Grimory. “Told me about you, though.” He holds out his hand to Anarchaia. “Apparently you’re quite the impressive mage?”

Anarchaia flushes and waves a hand while the other rests upon her cheek. “O-oh! I-I’m not _that_impressive. Heh.” She takes his hand and gives it a weak shake. “Anarchaia, at your service. It’s really a pleasure.”

“Well…let’s get this over with, I guess. Get to the drinking part,” Thassarian grunts.

With Alisbeth’s guidance using a page torn from an unknown book, Thassarian binds the other death knights’ hands together with the ribbon.

“Now, repeat after me, Koltira,” Thassarian says. He clears his throat and reads from the page, Koltria repeating everything. At the end he says, “And I hereby decree that I am an ass for this whole ordeal.”

Koltira opens his mouth to repeat it, then narrows his eyes at Thassarian. “Shut up.”

The death knight chuckles and repeats the process with Alisbeth—not adding that she’s an ass. Then, together, Koltira and Alisbeth use a dagger to cut the ribbon.

Alisbeth throws her half up in the air and giggles. “See? Easy-peasy lemon squeezy!”

The Illidari snerks at her last bit. “Congratulations,” he says unenthusiastically, grabbing Alisbeth’s hand and grinning. “To the tavern.”

Anarchaia gives hesitant one-man applause. “How’s it feel?” she asks with a laugh.

“Like I threw a ribbon in the air,” Alisbeth says as though the ribbon itself was the best part. She jumps onto Grimory’s back. “To the tavern!”

Koltira lets the ribbon fall to the floor. He pokes it with the toe of his boot.

Thassarian leans close to whisper. “Regrets?”

He shakes his head. “I feel like I should feel…something. Happy. Sad. Something. But I don’t. I feel nothing.”

Thassarian’s brow furrows and he shrugs. “Let’s go get stupid drunk.”


	7. Chapter 7

The group enter the tavern nearest the bank— which is surprisingly busy for early afternoon. Overwhelmed with a feeling of relief, Grimory doesn’t let Alisbeth down as he goes to the counter and orders a round of whiskey for each person. Anarchaia waves to a few familiar faces as she passes and pulls herself onto a stool near the bar, then glances over at the demon hunter when a glass is set before her.

Thassarian drops onto a stool as Koltira snags an empty chair to turn around and lower himself into, resting his arms on the back. The former scrutinizes the demon hunter.

“So, a farm boy. I take it this all happened in Stormind, just before little miss attitude came to Lordaeron—much to the chagrin of us boys.” He shakes his head and gives Alisbeth a wink.

She sticks her tongue out at the human, then smiles.

“Hillsbrad, actually,” Grimory corrects. “She was passing through and her horse slipped a shoe. I fixed it for her and…well, so on and so forth.” He grins at the memory and downs his whiskey in one swallow. “She was elusive after.”

Anarchaia picks up her glass and, with a smile, offers it to Koltira instead. He returns the mage’s smile and takes the drink from her, his hand lingering a little longer.

Thassarian cocks his eyebrow at the lingering touch, but turns back to Grimory. “Ah. I never asked questions about her whereabouts. All I knew is that I was never so thankful I didn’t live in the barracks. Tacks under the mattresses. Horse dung in pillow cases. I think the worst was uh, what was that poor bastard’s name, uh…”

Alisbeth’s eyes round. “Are you talking about the snake?”

“Corbin!”

“Yes!”

“Poor bastard wakes up one morning and there’s a damned snake in his boot. Pissed himself screaming.” Thassarian slaps his knee.

“He shouldn’t have made fun of my ears.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows and laughs. “Poisonous snake or…? Go big or go home, I say.”

Anarchaia narrows her eyes when a second glass is set before her, then sighs and lifts her mask, unable to resist.

“I…didn’t know it was poisonous…”

Thassarian laughs outright. “That’s not what I heard!” He shakes his head. “Gods, she was a terror. But quietly. I only know the others were her because she told me while we were in Northrend.” He takes a swallow of his drink winks at her. “So did you know the whole time or…?” he asks both of them.

Grimory shakes his head and orders a second whiskey. “She gave me a fake name, then. I didn’t know until…well, yesterday, actually. When I met Diori.” He swallows a drink and thinks for a moment. “I spent months asking for her.”

Alisbeth frowns. “I said I was sorry.”

Grimory pokes Alisbeth playfully in the ribs and smiles. “I know you did. I’m not mad.”

The human nods at the demon hunter. “Honestly, I didn’t even realize she was the same elf from Lordaeron. She changed a lot after Silvermoon.”

She scrunches her face. “Stop talking about me. You know who’s _really_ interesting? Arcadia. She’s the apprentice of Kattleguard. That’s cool, right? So much cooler than talking about me.” She finally drops from Grimory’s shoulders and hops onto the bar, taking her glass in her hand and sipping on it.

Anarchaia visibly flinches when she realizes Alisbeth is referring to her. “Yeah, no,” she says nervously. “Not interesting at all. Just a student. Pay me no mind. Heh.” She sips her drink.

Thassarian rolls his eyes at Anarchaia. “And I’m just a death knight. That doesn’t mean you don’t have a history.”

Koltira smirks. “Anarchaia isn’t _just_ anything. She’s quite the spectacular mage, actually. And a budding archer.” He gives her a wink.

The mage blushes and makes a few noises of embarrassment. “I’m a terrible marksman. And if I were that spectacular of a mage, Master Khadgar would have made me an archmage after twenty years of study. Heh.”

Alisbeth smiles endearingly. “Unless he just really wants to keep you around.”

Thassarian shrugs off the mage’s attempt at humility. “I’m inclined to believe Koltira.”

“I’m sure it’s just because he’s busy,” she mumbles, fidgeting with her fingers.

Grimory rolls his eyes and lifts his glass. “To new beginnings with old friends.”

Alisbeth lifts her glass. “Here, here!”

Thassarian and Koltira lift their glasses as well.

A couple hours pass and the alcohol continues to flow. The group busies themselves with idle chat, war stories, and cards. Anarchaia throws her poker hand into the burn pile for the umpteenth time and leans back to sip at her wine in defeat.

Grimory sways with the alcohol and rests his hand on Alisbeth’s thigh as he hides his cards from the rest. “So, aren’t you happy, Kolt? You and Thassarian can get married, now, instead.”

Koltira’s brow lowers and he chooses not to respond to the demon hunter.

Thassarian grins, dopey with liquor he’d drunk too much of too fast. He leans to Koltira. “I want a winter wedding in An’owyn, where we first met.” He holds his cards like a wedding bouquet and makes pouty faces at the high elf.

“I will throw you from Acherus,” Koltira says blandly.

Anarchaia gives a giggle and raises her hand. “I want to be Maid of Honor!”

Grimory gives a smirk. “Already squabbling as though it’s happened.”

“I call best man!” Alisbeth squeals. “Bet I’d rock a tux. Oh! I should go get a tux anyway just to prove I can, in fact, look amazing.”

Koltira’s brow lowers further. “I don’t even want to imagine Thass in a dress…”

Thassarian smiles like a devil. “Who said I’d be the one in the dress, elf?”

Koltira’s nose wrinkles and he leans away from the other death knight.

Grimory scrunches his face at the thought of Alisbeth in a tuxedo, then scrunches it further at the thought of Koltira in a lacy, white dress.

“You can both wear a dress,” Anarchaia suggests with a grin, bringing her wine to her lips.

“Oh, but it wouldn’t suit me nearly as—”

“_Why are we still talking about this?_” Koltira demands.

Alisbeth giggles into her fingertips. “Because you two make such a _cute_ couple! I mean, you’re totally adorable.”

Koltira clenches his jaw to avoid snapping nasty remarks at her that would ruin the good mood everyone is in.

Anarchaia taps Koltira’s shin reassuringly with her boot and smiles across the table. She clears her throat. “So what is your rank among the death knights, Thassarian?” she asks in a nonchalant tone, chin on a palm.

Thassarian shrugs. “Well, I’m no Deathlord, that’s for sure!” He pauses and holds still as a statue to stare at Alisbeth as she leans closer to the demon hunter, one slow inch at a time. When she nears his head, she opens her mouth and bites down on one of the curved horns, holding it in her teeth for a moment before releasing it and sitting back up as though the action hadn’t taken place. He shakes it off and looks back at the mage. “What was the question?”

Anarchaia waves a hand, the purpose of the question being fulfilled. “Oh! Nothing. I’ve gotten my answer.”

Grimory slowly turns his head to look at the death knight, confusion and amusement on his face. He leans over to bite her ear in revenge, cheeks pink with alcohol.

Alisbeth bites her lower lip and turns to whisper in Grimory’s ear. “Don’t start battles unless you intend to finish them.” She sets her fingers scandalously high up his thigh.

Grimory narrows his eyes down at her and cocks his head. “I started this a long time ago back at the inn.” He reaches around to place his hand behind her on the seat, thumb against her rear.

Thassarian takes a queue from the unfazed Koltira and ignores the two across the table. “So, Ana, are you going to be an apprentice forever? Or do you have bigger plans?”

Anarchaia sobers some. “Uhh…heh. That’s really up to Master. Though in all honesty I’ve never really pressed the issue. He’s just so busy I’d feel badly bothering him about it.” She shrugs. “It’d be nice to have my own apprentice. Heh.”

Koltira smiles across the table at her. “You never know until you ask. I think you’d make a great master.”

The mage smiles and shakes her head. “I don’t know. I’m obviously not suited for any sort of authority position.”

Alisbeth squeezes the demon hunter’s thigh. “That’s right, you did. But do you intend to finish? Or have you had too much to drink?”

Grimory scoffs. “Too much? Me? Never.”

Thassarian cocks an eyebrow and jerks a thumb at Alisbeth and Grimory. “Thought it was just a _thing_ fifty years ago…”

He glances over at Thassarian. “Pretty sure I said it was more.”

Thassarian waves a dismissive hand at Grimory. “Searching. Fifty years ago. Whatever. Didn’t realize it’d stuck. Is this why you let her talk you into this separation nonsense?” He turns to Koltira.

“He wanted it, too,” Alisbeth says. “So he doesn’t feel guilty when he and Asdfwas get freaky.” She shrugs and smiles. “I just didn’t like being married. I don’t think it was for me.”

Thassarian eyes Anarchaia and Koltira, then bursts out laughing. “Oh, gods, Deathweaver, what kind of tangled-up mess have you gotten yourself into?”

Anarchaia blushes and shrinks, not wanting to have been called out in such a manner. “There’s more to it than just that…” she mumbles, pulling her mask back over her chin.

Grimory gives an airy chuckle and gestures to the human with a thumb. “This guy. I like him. He should stick around,” he slurs.

Thassarian laughs. “Sounds like a lot of fun, but I’m a busy man. Unlike this wallflower.” He pats Koltira in the back so hard the elf chokes on his drink.

Koltira shakes the whiskey from his hands and glares over at Thassarian. “I’m starting to remember why I don’t introduce you to people.”

Thassarian laughs outright and slams a fist on the table. “There’s no one for you to introduce me _to_! You never leave that damned corner of yours unless you’re on some assignment.”

Koltira scowls. “Are we still playing cards or have we abandoned that in order to gossip like seamstresses?”

Alisbeth kicks his leg under the table. “Quit being a spoil-sport!”

Grimory chuckles. “I guess you two are good for each other, then, eh?” he says, jerking his head in Anarchaia’s direction. “A bookworm and an antisocial.” He looks down at Alisbeth and lowers his voice to the best of his drunken abilities, his filter long gone. “It’s a wonder you two were ever married at all.”

Anarchaia scowls at the demon hunter, cheek against knuckles and fingers tapping on the table. “Stop instigating, Grim.”

“Who’s instigating? I’m just thinking out loud is all.”

Koltira grits his teeth, but cannot contain the snide remarks. “Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that a _libertine_ would enjoy the company of—” Koltira jerks as Thassarian kicks his leg under the table.

The other death knight shrugs. “I slipped.”

Koltira straightens, realizing what Thassarian saved him from saying. “I fold.” He throws his pocket aces on the table and leans back in his chair. His eyes lock on the mage across the table and one corner of his mouth curves upward.

Alisbeth jerks upright, as though the conversation had barely reached her ears. “He may be a libertine, but at least he knows how to have fun!”

“I’d rather be a libertine than an—” He pauses, glancing at Alisbeth from the corner of his eye, then clenching his jaw. “A blubbering sack of jealousy.”

Anarchaia sends a wave of energy that throws Grimory’s drink over the table and into his lap. “That’s _enough_, Grim! I told you to stop!”

Grimory narrows his eyes at Anarchaia, scrambling to wipe off his leg armor. “You shouldn’t be talking, either. You’re as guilty as I.”

Thassarian chuckles as though watching the funniest thing he’s seen in a long time.

“What’s going on here?” a familiar voice asks.

Alisbeth throws her cards in the air. “Tabbef!” She jumps up to hug him. “Hi. We’re having a sepat—shepartition…” She smacks her lips and scowls.

“You’re drunk.”

“Yep! Se-pa-ra-tion reception.” She claps once in triumph. “Where’s Diori?” She looks behind him.

“Studying. Just because she followed me to Dalaran, doesn’t mean she can abandon her schooling.”

“That…is very responsible of you.” She forces him into her chair and sits on Grimory’s lap, even though it’s wet. “Come drink with us!”

“We’re all drunk,” Grimory mutters, pulling Alisbeth closer. “Come be drunk with us.” He pauses. “And don’t tell Diori.”

Taveth gives a chuckle. “I must decline, respectfully. She wanted to see the isles later today and I need a clear head. Before you ask, no, I’m not taking her to the dangerous parts.”

Alisbeth cocks an eyebrow. “Why not? Those are the fun parts! Can I go?”

He cringes, his eyes shifting between her and Grimory. “Ehh…”

Grimory furrows his brow at Alisbeth. “She’s _fifty_, Ali. She’s too young for that. Hasn’t even trained with a sword yet.”

“_But_ if _I_ go, I can keep her _safe_.” She taps his nose.

Taveth grimaces as though in some sort of pain. “Ali…you’re…drunk…”

Alisbeth furrows her brow. “You think I’m going to _hurt_ her? The Redblade can’t harm her! Not even a scratch!”

Grimory places a hand over Alisbeth’s mouth. “No, Ali.”

Anarchaia stands and takes up her empty glass. “Refill,” she says with a fake smile no one can see, and makes her way to the bar.

Thassarian squishes his fist into his cheek. “Taveth is right. A battlefield is no place for a child.”

Alisbeth frowns. “I was out killing things at that age. I don’t see the problem.”

“You were training for something,” Grimory slurs. “She hasn’t anything to fight for. Not yet, anyway.”

Alisbeth purses her lips. “I don’t want her to fight for anything. I mean…look at all of us. Look what we became fighting for something. Thassarian was betrayed by our prince. Koltira died defending a city that was going to fall anyway. You went through all these changes,” she strokes his horns, “fighting for…something.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want her joining our wars.”

Taveth nods. “Good, because she wants to be a priestess like her aunt…grandmother. Sorry.”

Alisbeth smiles, then frowns, then smiles. She stares at Grimory, then at Taveth. “But…that’s boring.”

“Boring is safe. If that’s what she wants, then I’m okay with it.” Grimory pauses, then sobers. “Not that I have any say in…in the matter.” He drinks again, draining the cup and reflecting on the lost time.

“But…how will she wield the Redblade? Okay, safe is good, but…” Alisbeth bites her fingernails in frustration.

Koltira ignores the implication that she’ll be taking Byfrost back, reminding himself that it _is_ her sword.

Thassarian rolls his eyes. “Not like you’re going anywhere. You could just keep the damned sword.” He holds his mug out to Taveth. “Another.”

Taveth chuckles. “Good friend, I don’t work _here_. Try asking at the bar.”

Thassarian grumbles and gets up to get a refill. He scooches in close to Anarchaia. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Anarchaia jumps at the sound of the man’s voice, not expecting the person beside her to be someone she’s met. “Oh,” she laughs. “I come here often.”

“A staff can be just as deadly as a blade,” Grimory says. “Plus, she wants to help people. That’s very honorable.” He smiles. _And cute._

Alisbeth folds her arms and pouts.

“I’d be honored if I had a daughter that wanted to be a priestess,” Koltira says to the little mouthful of whiskey left in his glass.

Alisbeth stands abruptly and stomps to the bar, squishing against the other side of the mage. “Whatcha doin’ over here? Bet it’s fun.”

“N-nothing,” Anarchaia says with a smile, not wanting to reveal her true reason for leaving the table. “Just waiting on a wine.” _That I didn’t order yet._ “What’s up with you?”

Alisbeth shrugs. “I dunno.”

Thassarian laughs.

Anarchaia purses her lips. “You just miss me, then?” She pats Alisbeth on the shoulder. “How sweet.”

Taveth opens his mouth to speak, but closes it and looks at Koltira. “I’m missing some huge details, I feel.”

“_Yep._” Koltira finishes his drink and sets the glass on the table, upside-down.

Grimory glances from the three at the bar to the two before him and sighs. “I’m sorry she didn’t tell you,” he finally says in a moment of sympathy.

Koltira purses his lips. “Yeah, well, she didn’t tell you, either. Makes you…rethink, y’know? Go over everything from the beginning. I mean…how much of it was bullshit? Just that? All of it?” He blows out the air in his lungs. “Much drunker. That’s what I need to be.”

Grimory opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. He furrows his brow and thinks for a long moment. “You’re right,” he growls. “What if that’s not even my child? What if she fucked someone else fifty years ago?”

Taveth’s ears pull back. “Excuse me, but, no matter what she’s like _now_, she was never like that. She was always disciplined. The few boys at Academy that _did_ show interest, she chased off…violently. I was there for one of them and it wasn’t pretty.”

Koltira scoffs. “I have to question if her new behavior is even new. Maybe she’s always been _promiscuous_…” He says the word as though somehow it makes him dirty. He scoffs into his empty glass then scowls when nothing sloshes into his mouth. “It’s easy to play innocent when you look like that. Hell, she played innocent with me. Jokes on me.”

Grimory glances again over at the three taking at the bar. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter to me. Diori will never look at me as her father, anyway, so it’s not important.” He spins his cup around with his thumbs as he thinks, then looks up at Taveth. “How do we know you aren’t lying as well? You have vested interest in making her look good.”

Taveth scowls. “My cousin died in Silvermoon and now she’s back from the dead and completely crazy—which none of you will say out loud—and you think I have some interest in making her look good? She didn’t even _bother_ to tell us she was okay. It’s been _twenty_ years!” He lowers his voice and glances at Alisbeth, then back at them. “And I’ve been playing brother to that amazing little girl for fifty years. You two… I don’t know what your deal is, but I want no part of it. I should’ve just left you alone when I saw her sword, because I want no part of this mess you four have going. I’ll be sending Diori back to Stormwind this afternoon. She doesn’t need to be around this…whatever this is.” He stands and storms from the tavern.

Grimory’s eyes widen at the notion of Diori leaving and, despite his voiced doubts, he stands to follow as well. “Hold on!” he says when he finds his footing well enough to catch up. “Please don’t,” he says with a sudden sobriety.

Alisbeth gasps and runs after him. “Taveth wait!”

Koltira blinks. “Well that seems a bit rash…” He shrugs and goes back to staring at his empty glass.

Alisbeth smiles. “Don’t what?”

Taveth purses his lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

“He wants to take Diori back to Stormwind today,” Grimory says. “Just one more day. I want…I want to get to know her more.”

Alisbeth loses all joy she’d had before and frowns at her cousin. “But why?”

Taveth blinks down at her. “It’s not because of you.” He shakes his head at the demon hunter. “‘Get to know her’? You mean the girl that is probably not even yours because you think my cousin is a whore?”

Alisbeth steps back as though she’s been physically struck. “I’m _what?_” She stares at Grimory, her mouth wide in disbelief.

The Illidari bristles, glaring at Taveth. He gives Alisbeth a pleading look. “I didn’t say that! I just…wasn’t sure if—” He growls, his eyes igniting with this frustration. “You didn’t even remember if it was me until I proved it to you. What if Diori isn’t mine?” He runs a hand over his hair. “I didn’t mean it the way he said it. Koltira’s the one who called you _promiscuous_, not me.”

Tears immediately spill from Alisbeth’s eyes and her chin quivers, though she purses her lips to stop it. “Taveth, take Diori back to Stormwind. Right now. Don’t ever bring her back here.” She runs for the Legerdemain Lounge to lock herself in her room.

Taveth straightens. “I guess that settles that.” He turns his back on Grimory and walks away.

“_Wait!_” Grimory calls after either of them, face filled with regret and concern. He quickly decides on following Taveth, knowing he’ll get nowhere with Alisbeth. “At least ask her what _she_ wants!”

Taveth doesn’t stop walking. “You seem much too invested in a family you’re not part of. Go back to your drinks and forget about it. We’ve proven she’s a Redblade. Beyond that, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

With a surge of rage, Grimory positions himself in front of the elf, claws drawn and glowing, eyes crackling in fury. “Listen here,” he growls down at him, “I couldn’t give two _fucks_ what you think does or doesn’t matter. If you try to take that child away from me without first asking what she wants, things are going to get violent.”

Taveth takes a step back and blinks up at Grimory. His eyes shift to the nearby guard, then back to the fel fires glaring down at him. He takes a breath, attempting to look braver than he is. “Which child is that? Your’s? Or some other guy’s?”

The guard in the nearby doorway draws his staff, readying to intervene, should any violence break out. “Weapons away!” he shouts from beneath his hood.

The demon hunter ignores the command, continuing to glower down and grit his fangs. “Mine.”

Taveth purses his lips. “Yeah, well…we’ll see.” He moves to go around Grimory.

He steps in front of him again, blocking his path. “If I find out that you told her nothing—and I _will_ find out, I promise you that—I’ll find you.”

Taveth’s breath catches. “Y-you know what? F-fine. Do what you’re going to do. I will _not_ be bullied around by some hot-heated demon hunter I’ve only barely met.” He puffs out his chest as a dare. “Come on. Slash me open. I decided long ago I’d die to keep Diori safe. Just take a moment to think about how much she’ll love you after you gut her big brother.” He swallows and doesn’t try to hide the shaking of his limbs as the fear courses through his veins.

Grimory breathes heavily in his adrenaline-fueled state. He clenches his fists, then, before he’s able to do anything, the guard lifts his staff and the demon hunter is pulled away from the man, heels skidding on the cobblestone. He growls and shakes off the magic, claws dissipating. He points at Taveth, eyes still smoldering. “I meant what I said.” He turns and storms off in the direction of the Legerdemain Lounge.

Taveth nods to the guard and shakes off his terror at being threatened. He goes into the Silver Enclave to find Diori and her instructor. “Diori, I’m going back to Stormwind for a little bit. Will you please stay here and keep up with your lessons?”

The high elf girl turns her gaze up to her brother from her parchment; she smiles and nods. “Okay. But, why? When will you be back?”

Taveth looks over her writing and smiles. “Just an hour or two to speak with father. I’ll have Kel’ori teleport me back as fast as possible, okay?” He kisses the top of her head.

Diori nods. Her smile widens as her head is kissed. “Are we going to see cous—Ali and the shirtless guy again today?”

Taveth smiles as best he can. “We’ll see. Get back to your lesson in…” he looks over her paper. “Is that how to _break_ bones, or how to _fix_ them?”

Diori scoops up the paper and hugs it to her chest, giving a wide, cheesy grin. “Both?”

Taveth laughs and ruffles her hair. “I guess it helps to know how they’re broken in order to fix them correctly. I’ll be back soon.” He jogs down the steps and takes the portal to Stormwind.


	8. Chapter 8

Grimory raps his knuckles against Alisbeth’s door, smoothing his hair back in distress. “Ali? I’m sorry, please open the door?”

The death knight sniffs and wipes her nose on her sleeve, then pulls on the armoire door to shut herself in the darkness. It pops open yet again and she buries her face in the toys she’d gathered into her lap.

Grimory sighs and turns to press his back against the door. “I didn’t mean what I said,” he says, sliding down to a sit and no longer caring who hears him. “These last two days have just been…so hard on me. I just…_ugh_.” He rubs his face with his palms.

Alisbeth rips the door open and glares at the demon hunter as he falls back at her feet. “_You’ve_ been having a hard couple days? Oh, I am just _so sorry!_ I should have taken _your_ feelings into consideration.” She lifts her foot to jam her heel into his stomach. “How could I have been so insensitive?”

Grimory grunts in pain, then grabs her ankle so she can’t do it a second time. “You made your feelings pretty obvious by telling your cousin to just _take her away_, so don’t act like you’re a saint in all this.”

Alisbeth falls over. She kicks at him with her other foot. “Don’t you _even_ start! I did that because she shouldn’t be around someone like _you_.” Alisbeth gets free and crawls away to kneel and resume sobbing. “Or me. She was happy and I ruined it.” She hits herself on the head a couple times before turning her very wet glare on him. “She’s not your daughter. That’s what you want to hear, right? She’s some other guy’s little girl and I just lied because I’m some kind of whore that tricked boys into sleeping with me.” She presses her hands to her face and bends over to put her forehead on the floor.

Grimory flips over to sit in his knees as well, kicking the door closed. He resists his strong urge to go and comfort her at the sound of her sobs. “That’s not what I want to hear at all!” he barks, fists clenched. “I just wanted the truth. And she _does_ deserve parents, no matter how…dysfunctional.” He grits his teeth at his own words, then finally reaches a hand to comfort her. “I just wanted to be sure. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Alisbeth jerks up and slaps him across the face. “Don’t you _ever_ accuse me of lying. If you’re so fucking innocent in this then why didn’t _you_ say something? Did you know who I was this whole time?” She shrinks away from him. “Just…waited until there was a reason to say something?”

Grimory jerks some at the blow but doesn’t move. He shakes his head and scowls. “I didn’t know until I heard her name. I’m telling you the truth.”

“And somehow that makes _me_ the liar?” She gets up from the floor, hugging her self as she curls up on the bed.

Grimory sighs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t,” he says quietly. “I was…being stupid. I’m sorry.”

Alisbeth sniffs. “I don’t forgive you.”

Grimory swallows and nods, standing. “All right. I deserve that, I suppose.” He turns to the door. “I’m not giving her up that easily, though.”

“And what are you going to do now? Stand outside Stormwind, screaming until the guards take you to the dungeons or just kill you?” Alisbeth asks. She wipes a cheek and gives a small laugh. “That actually sounds fun.”

Grimory shrugs and gives a heavy sigh, scratching at the nape of his neck. “If that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes.”

She turns to look at him. She frowns for a second after seeing how close he is to the door. She opens her mouth to say something, then changes her mind and flops back around to stare at the balcony doors. “Okay.”

Grimory inhales slowly, then turns. “I really want this to work, Ali. I won’t say anything else that’ll hurt your feelings but you have to stop running away when you’re angry.”

Alisbeth scoffs. “You will, too. No one can promise to _never_ say things that hurt. You can promise to _try_…and so can I.” She curls up tighter. “I shouldn’t have sent Diori away.”

“I can try, yes.” The Illidari shakes his head. “You didn’t. I told Taveth not to send her back.”

The death knight laughs bitterly. “You think Taveth will listen to you?”

“I…kind of…threatened him,” Grimory says, grimacing at himself.

Alisbeth sits straight up. “You _what?_ Grim, that’s how you get Taveth to do the _opposite_ of what you want. He _hates_ bullies. I know because I…was his bully. But when I wanted to get him to do one thing, I’d tell him to do the other and then threaten him.” She buries her face in her hands. “Oh, gods, I’m sorry. I’ve made such a mess.”

Grimory clenches his fists and growls, then inhales to calm himself. Regardless of how she’ll react, he goes to her and puts his arms around her. “No, it was my fault. Don’t blame yourself.”

Alisbeth leans into his embrace and sighs. “So, to Stormwind to scream at the gates until we’re thrown in jail or killed?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Come on!” She jumps up and to the door in one bound.

Grimory stumbles as she runs out from beneath him, bracing himself on the bed as the alcohol returns to him all at once. He buries his face into the comforter, knees on the floor. “Maybe in a bit…”

She kneels and wraps his arm over her shoulders. “Silly living and their weakness to alcohol. Come on.” She helps to boost him onto the bed. “Need to sleep?”

He nods and turns over to bury his face into the pillows as much as his horns will allow. “I think so.”

Alisbeth curls herself into his side. “Can I pretend to sleep beside you?”

“Always.” Grimory closes his eyes.

She smiles and drags his arm over herself, then closes her eyes to listen to him breathe.

~ * ~

Anarchaia blinks as the three rush out of the tavern, then shrugs and throws a gold piece on the bar for her wine. “So much drama with those two.”

Thassarian grunts and laughs. “Can be fun to watch, sometimes. Come, let’s buy the lady,” he jerks a thumb at Koltira, “a drink and you two can tell me about…whatever you two are.”

Anarchaia chortles into the backs of her fingers as she swallows, flushing. _Not sure what we are._ She orders another glass of whiskey and walks over to set it before Koltira with a grin. “Lonely over here?”

Koltira smiles warmly at her. “Not anymore.”

Thassarian drops back into his seat with a bottle of whiskey and a mug of mead. “So, from a paladin to a mage. What’s that like?”

Koltira blinks at him. “Gods, you’re nosey.”

Thassarian nods. “Yep. Now talk.”

Anarchaia sits but immediately contemplates getting up and walking back to the bar when Thassarian begins prying. Unsure what to say, she merely laughs in discomfort and sips her wine as though her mouth being busy excuses her from talking.

Koltira sighs audibly as he takes a drink. “Ana is an amazing scholar and we have many intelligent, _lucid_ conversations. It may not be thrilling or dramatic, but I think I’m done with thrilling and dramatic.”

The mage swallows her drink but allows the cup to remain at her lips, unsure of how to take the compliment. Finally, she sets the receptacle down and clears her throat. “It’s my fault,” she says after a moment, her voice quiet.

Thassarian cocks an eyebrow at her. “What?”

“They separated because I seduced him. I tricked him into lying with me and ultimately growing feelings for me. You seem upset that they’ve parted. It’s my fault, though. So please don’t be angry with him,” the mage says, the words falling from her mouth without restraint.

Thassarian slowly lowers his mug to the table. Koltira gapes incredulously at Anarchaia.

The mage’s eyes flick between the two and she fidgets with her cup. “W-well it’s true,” she says meekly, looking down.

The two death knights let Anarchaia fidget in her minor panic for a long while before Thassarian breaks out in a loud laugh. “Not a word of that is true, and I know it.”

Anarchaia inhales to retort, but pauses when Koltira interjects.

“She didn’t trick me. She used an illusion, thinking it would make me happy… It did, but when it fell, I realized I was already desiring what was under the illusion. I just had to admit it to myself.”

She shrinks in embarrassment, only hearing this for the first time. She pulls her mask down to hide her deepening blush. “You…you did?”

“I already told you, I don’t do casual. Never have.”

Thassarian nods. “This is true. Though, I only ever knew him with Ali.”

Anarchaia covers her face as though the mask isn’t enough to hide her smile. “That’s nice to hear ‘nd all, but…can we change the subject? This is embarrassing.”

Thassarian laughs. “All right. New topic.” He stares at Koltira.

Koltira shrugs.

A silence passes. “I hope Malfurion is okay,” the mage says, lowering her hands. “Do you think Tyrande’s found him yet?”

Koltira lets out a long breath through partially pursed lips. “She said she’d contact us through Khadgar if she has.”

Anarchaia sobers. “He hasn’t said anything about it.” She pauses and frowns. “He hasn’t said anything to me the last two days, come to think of it. Just _continue your notes_.” She looks down into her cup and swirls it to coat the bottom in wine.

“Have you spoken to him about his…concerns?” Koltira asks.

Anarchaia merely shakes her head. “I…didn’t think it was something to worry about.”

He smiles endearingly. “You’re probably right. It isn’t.” He goes to take a drink but does a double take on Thassarian, who has quietly passed out, a cheek on his fist. Koltira nudges him and the other death knight slowly leans the other direction until he crashes to the floor without waking. Koltira chuckles. “He’s out of practice.”

Anarchaia gives a small laugh and stands. “Perhaps we should get him a room at the inn next door.”

“If you insist,” Koltira says, sighing.

Anarchaia smiles and cocks her head. “Are you suggesting we just leave him?”

He shrugs and smirks at the mage. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

She chortles and shakes her head, sitting again. “If _you_ insist.”

Koltira lifts a hand, motioning for her to go to him. Anarchaia smiles and cocks her head again in curiosity, then stands and goes to him as per his request.

He takes her hand and spins her, then drags her down into his lap. He wraps his arms around her. “How are you doing?”

Anarchaia hums a laugh and wraps her arms around his, pushing them into her. “Better than him,” she responds, tapping her boot against Thassarian’s. “You?”

Koltira nuzzles into her shoulder blade. “I’m all right.”

She smiles contentedly. “Are you happy?” she inquires after a moment.

The death knight thinks on it and sighs. “Perhaps. Are you?”

Anarchaia leans away to look at him over her shoulder. “You’re not happy,” she says in a somber tone.

Koltira looks up at her, his cheek to the back of her shoulder. “Well it depends on what you’re asking me what I’m happy about. Am I happy Thassarian is passed out on the floor? Most assuredly, because it shut him up. Am I happy there’s a beautiful woman sitting on my lap? Of course I am. Now, are _you_ happy?”

Anarchaia shakes her head. “Don’t worry about me. Something’s bothering you. What is it? What can I do to help?”

Koltira smooths his knuckles along her jaw. “Same as this morning. Same as last night. Nothing new. Although I _am_ concerned that we’re not next to a quiet pond or sitting atop a tall cliff right now. In fact, I think it’s just past noon and I’ve drunk so much I can’t feel the tips of my ears and my best friend is passed out on the floor.”

Anarchaia smiles again, though he’s unable to see. “My offer to put him in a room stands. We can find that high up place after of you’re still willing.”

“Yes,” Koltira smiles. “Let’s do that.”

Anarchaia stands, lifting her hands to raise the unconscious death knight into the air. She struggles with the weight of the armor, but eventually stabilizes. “Thank you!” she calls to the bar staff as though in apology and saunters out into the street.

Koltira pays the tab and jogs after the mage. “Just tell me where and I’ll make sure your path is clear. Hey, try to hit his head on every hard surface and we can convince him he lost a fist fight to you.”

Anarchaia laughs, nearly dropping the man as they near the inn. “I don’t have it in me to willingly hurt someone,” she admits. But we can put some blueberry juice on his eye to make it look like he was in a fight.” She asks the innkeeper for the nearest vacant room and walks in that direction. “The headache he’ll have tomorrow will help.”

Koltira thinks on it. “No. That wouldn’t fool him.” He opens the door to the room and stands out of Anarchaia’s way so she can deposit Thassarian on the bed.

The mage sets the human onto the feather mattress as gently as she can, then sighs in relief at the lack of weight to carry. “Hm. We could pay a troll to get in bed with him.” She chuckles.

“That. I like that one. He _hates_ trolls. You have no idea. I’ll never hear the end of it and it will never stop being hilarious.” Koltira wraps an arm over Anarchaia’s shoulders to guide her from the room.

“Perhaps Juliember is still around,” she chuckles. “I bet she’d be all for it.”

“She did say to ask any druid and they could get her at a moment’s notice…” He gives her a sly smile. “Shall we find us a druid?”

“How the hell did you remember that?” Anarchaia mumbles to herself. “Pretty sure I saw one back at the tavern.” She brings a hand up to her shoulder to weave her fingers through his.

Koltira chuckles. “Well, I didn’t have much to do in the month we were apart, except think. Plus, it’s always good to remember how to get a hold of a healer. They tend to come in handy.”

The two turn into the tavern and she points out a night elf in nature-inspired armor.

“Excuse me,” Anarchaia greets, “are you a druid?”

“Aye,” the man says through a choppy white beard. “You need something only a druid can provide?”

Anarchaia nods. “We know one named Juliember. A troll. Could you contact her for us? We need her…assistance.” She giggles as she talks as though the deed has already been done.

The man narrows an eye at the tittering mage. “I suppose. A portal to the glade is taxing. Perhaps make it worth my while?”

Anarchaia scoffs and holds out a few gold pieces. “I thought druids were supposed to be noble.”

He pockets the money. “And I thought mages were supposed to be intelligent.” He sweeps from the tavern and a flash of light filters through the door.

“Rude,” Anarchaia mutters.

Koltira shrugs and pulls the mage onto a stool. He orders her a glass of wine and him another whiskey. “While we wait.”

Anarchaia chortles and gently shoves his shoulder. “I’d say you’re just trying to get me drunk, good sir.”

“Oh, you’re not already there?” Koltira asks. “Better catch up.”

“I didn’t drink nearly as much as the rest of you,” the mage laughs. Another flash of light comes through the door followed by the night elf.

“She’ll be here in five,” he grumbles and continues back to his seat.

Koltira nods to the druid, then smirks at Anarchaia. “As I said, time for you to catch up.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow at the man, then pushes her mask up. “Guess I have five minutes, then.” She drains her glass as quickly as she can, then sets the empty receptacle on the bar.

Koltira smiles and taps the side of his glass so it inches toward her.

Anarchaia narrows her eyes at him, then takes up the glass and downs that as well, coughing when she swallows. “I hate whiskey,” she chokes.

“Bartender, two…” he sizes Anarchaia up, “gins?”

“I don’t like gin, either, but I’ll always be the last person to pass up free alcohol.” She chuckles, already feeling the previous drinks.

“Well, then, after the gin it’s lady’s choice, I suppose.”

Anarchaia laughs and leans over the bar. “I’m going to pick the sweetest, girliest cocktail I can think of. Fruit hanging off the glass, bright color…” She sips at the gin when it’s set before her and crinkles her nose. “Ech.”

“De trick with gin be de same as man’s seed…swallow before you taste anything,” a familiar troll says behind Anarchaia.

Koltira chokes on his drink and wipes his mouth. “Gods, Juliember…”

She grins. “I heard ya be needin me?” She leans on her staff and glances between the two.

Anarchaia blushes but laughs all the same. “Perhaps if you don’t like the taste.” She sips her gin. “We have a friend that needs pranking. Would you be interested?”

Juliember’s grin turns evil. “Buy me a drink and let’s be hearing this prank of yours.”

Koltira motions for the bartender.

“Gin, because I do like the taste.” She winks down at Anarchaia.

Anarchaia blushes and throws back the rest of the gin, doing her best not to let any hit her tongue. She scrunches her face when she fails. “We put a friend at the inn down the street. He’s passed out in a bed. We want you to crawl in with him.”

Juliember drops onto a stool and drinks the gin as she thinks. “Why?”

Koltira purses his lips. “He doesn’t like trolls. He’s…human.”

Her brow furrows and she nods. After a long moment she smiles again. “You be helping me strip him. What will I be getting in return? Besides the satisfaction of terrorizing a _human_.”

Anarchaia shrugs and hiccups into her palm. “Anything you want?”

Juliember strokes up the mage’s spine. “You be cute. Would seeing under that skirt of yours be on the table?”

Anarchaia stiffens at the touch and chuckles nervously up at the troll. Her smile falls, however, when no one else laughs with her. She clears her throat and gives a more uncomfortable titter, looking away at anything but either of them. “U-uh, I…I don’t…heh.”

Juliember laughs. “This one be adorable when flustered.”

“Isn’t she, though?” Koltira nods in agreement.

“I will accept about anything. Drinks, payment,” she leans in so her face is right next to Anarchaia’s, “_favors_.” She straightens and sips her gin. “The promise of more jobs works, too. But there have to be jobs. None of this ‘We’ll do some eventually,’ and the jobs never come.”

Koltira motions at the mage. “Well, it was your idea.”

Anarchaia pouts. “Humiliating me isn’t payment enough?” she whines before ordering another glass of sweet red wine. “I’ll give you payment by means of…payment, then.” She gives a chuckle. “Is there anything in the city you’d like? Armor? Weapons? Fancy food?”

Juliember shrugs. “Flirting is humiliating?” She finishes her gin. “You know why your robes be sexy? Because we don’t know what be underneath. The mystery is…titillating. If you change your mind… Right, where be this friend of yours?”

Anarchaia gives another uncomfortable chortle. “It’s nothing special, but I’ll keep that in mind,” she mutters, then throws a coin on the table and scoops up her cup, heading for the door. “This way!”

The group heads to the inn, Koltira grinning like an idiot and Juliember echoing the expression.


	9. Chapter 9

A gentle tapping causes Alisbeth to stir from her corpse-like stillness. She listens to Grimory’s heart beat a few times, happy and sad at the same time that her own doesn’t pound in her ears to interrupt it. The tapping comes again and she untangles herself from Grimory, making sure to not rouse him. She opens the door and purses her lips at Taveth.

“I changed my mind,” she says before he can get a word in.

He sighs at her and shoves into the room, running his fingers through his long, fair hair. “I’m not saying I thought you would, but I didn’t send her away yet. I wanted t-… I’m sorry, was I disturbing something?” He eyes the demon hunter on the bed.

“Hmm? Oh, no. He drank too much. I was pretending to sleep.”

Taveth cocks his eyebrow at her. “That’s kind of weird.”

Grimory groans and sits up. “What’s going on?” he grumbles, head still swimming.

“Taveth is here,” Alisbeth says.

“I think he can see that.” The elf sighs and scratches the back of his head. “I went to talk to father. Told him about you being alive—he’s irate, by the way, and as soon as he’s able he’s coming to Dalaran to give you what for.”

Alisbeth nods emphatically. “I like what for. That’s good.”

Taveth pauses, his eyes narrowed at her. He mouths _What?_ at the demon hunter.

Grimory catches Taveth’s eye and gives a genuine shrug. He turns and pushes himself off the bed, swaying when he stands. “So you’re not taking her?” he says, asking the first thing in his mind.

Taveth purses his lips. “I—”

“Are you?” Alisbeth demands.

“Would you let me talk?”

“Are you?”

Taveth folds his arms over his chest and scowls at the death knight until she makes a zipping motion over her lips. “I was thinking about it. I spent all this time wondering about her parentage, and I felt like I needed proof. We can _prove_ beyond a doubt that she’s a Redblade. But you,” he motions at Grimory, “had a minor point. Given, it was also based on stupid and _wrong_ assumptions,” he adds when Alisbeth sneers, looking like she’s about to start screaming. “So, I asked my father and he gave me these.” He opens his satchel and withdraws three letters—two with broken seals and one with the circular gob of wax still intact.

Alisbeth takes the sealed one and runs her fingers along the wax, smiling. “My letter to Diori.”

Grimory folds his arms and grunts. “We worked it out. I said I was sorry.” He glances at the letter in extreme curiosity, shoulders untensing. “What does it say?”

Taveth holds one up. “This is the one Ali wrote to my father. I read it and it doesn’t give your identity. This one, though…” He opens the other letter and scowls. “It’s from Tirion. He said that he didn’t have solid proof, but was positive of the identity of Diori’s father. I guess he did some detective work of his own.”

Alisbeth snatches the paper. She reads quickly and scowls. “That’s horrible.”

“So it _was_ he who turned me away at Southshore,” Grimory hisses, fists clenching against his biceps. “Self-righteous prick.”

“That’s not the only thing he did,” Taveth says, frowning. “You said your name was Grimory…” he consults the page over Alisbeth’s shoulder, “Silversong?”

Alisbeth huffs angrily as she reads the letter again.

Grimory nods. “Yeah. It is.” The anger in him rises but he swallows it. “So in reality it isn’t Alisbeth’s fault. It’s his.”

Taveth opens his mouth to reply but Alisbeth growls at the letter. “_In my personal opinion, neither Alisbeth, nor Mr. Silversong would make fitting guardians as they are young and obviously reckless. I advise against trying to make contact with Mr. Silversong, as I’m sure he’ll deny the child as his own. The best course of action is to raise her as your own, which is what Alisbeth wants._” Hands shaking, Alisbeth balls up the letter and throws it to the floor. “He lied to me.”

Grimory’s eyes ignite at the word _deny_ and he kicks the letter. Breathing heavily in rage, he growls “if he weren’t already dead, I swear to gods…”

Taveth purses his lips and sets a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Alisbeth clenches the sealed letter to her chest as though Grimory might go after that one next. “This letter isn’t supposed to be opened for another sixty. It’s for Diori when she turns of age.” She looks between the two men, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “Should we let her read it now?”

Grimory thinks this over for a moment as he struggles to calm himself. “Is it something she’d understand at her current age? I’d hate for it to be important and her not knowing what it means.”

Alisbeth traces the wax seal again. “It’s an explanation of why. And an apology. And a wish that she could forgive me.” She holds the letter out to Grimory. “It’s your choice.”

Grimory takes the letter hesitantly. He stares down at it and sighs. “It’s pointless asking what she wants, since she’s fifty and will undoubtedly open it.” He furrows his brow. “But I’ll give it to her nonetheless. She deserves it.”

Taveth nods and slips the other two letters into his bag, leaving the one as a crumpled ball. “Diori may have finished her studies by now, I think. I can go get her?”

Grimory gives a slow nod, head still spinning. “Oh, ah…thank you,” he says after a moment. “And sorry for…threatening you. It wasn’t very respectable. Won’t happen again.”

Taveth blinks. “Is that a yes?”

Alisbeth fidgets. “I’m sober now… I don’t know about Grim.”

Grimory sits back on the bed and sets the letter beside him. He rubs a hand over his eyes and nods. “I’m fine. Coherent. I promise.”

“All right. Be right back.” Taveth leaves the two alone.

Alisbeth sits on the bed beside Grimory and sets her sad eyes on him. “This wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

Grimory shakes his head. “Nothing is fair. I just…” Thoughts flood his mind of how different his life would have been had he had Diori with him. He clenches his jaw. “I’ll be fine.”

Alisbeth wraps her arms around him and squeezes. “Hey. For what it’s worth…you weren’t unfit. I was… Am…”

Grimory brings a hand up to her shoulder. “I don’t think you are, Ali.”

Alisbeth sets her palm on Grimory’s cheek and turns him to face her. “At least one person thinks so.” She presses her lips to his and squeezes him tigher with her other arm.

Grimory sighs through his nose and closes his eyes, wrapping an arm about her waist and pressing into the kiss.

~ * ~

Taveth stops on the way up the stairs. “Oh, hello. Still drunk, I see,” he says to Koltira.

Koltira laughs. “Only a little.”

Taveth scrutinizes the party and looks down at Diori. “We’re not even going to ask what you’re up to.”

Anarchaia smiles and hides the wine behind her back. “Just having a joke on a friend.”

Juliember smiles and bends to look at Diori. “Hello, little elf.” She holds out her fist and as it opens a flower blooms in her palm. She slips it into Diori’s hair. “So cute.”

Having never encountered a troll before, Diori pushes tightly against Taveth, but does not move as the flower is placed in her tresses. She smiles and blushes a light pink. “Thank you,” she says, reaching a hand up to feel the petals.

Taveth cocks an eyebrow at them. “Please tell me it’s Thassarian? You know he hates, uh…” He clears his throat as he looks at Juliember.

Juliember smiles. “Why do you think they sent for me?”

Koltira chuckles. “We’ll tell you about it later. Please, after you.” He motions up the stairs.

Taveth laughs. “Every detail, you hear? Every detail.” He heads up the stairs, his hand around Diori’s.

Anarchaia stares longingly after the little girl, then drowns the emotions with the rest of her wine. She follows, leading the other two across the hall and into Thassarian’s room to find him yet still as a corpse. “Like a stone, this one.”

“All right,” Juliember rubs her hands together and looks around the room. She sets a few framed pictures askew, lays her staff on the floor, and shoves the dresser a little over with a corner sticking out. “Trolls like it rough,” she says with a wink. “Right, help me undress him.”

Koltira makes a face but steps forward to help, anyway.

Anarchaia sets to work unclasping the human’s armor, giggling mischievously. “This is gonna be hilarious,” she chortles. “You have to tell us what he says.”

“I will give you every detail,” Juliember laughs, yanking off his boots.

Koltira lifts him to sitting so the others can get his cuirass and shirt off. He pulls the comforter and top sheet down, then lifts his legs to get it out from under him.

Juliember drags her dress over her head, effectively rendering herself completely naked. “I am going to be taking a nice nap, I think.”

Anarchaia quickly turns away, holding up her hands to shield her eyes. “Yes, enjoy!” she says quickly, bustling from the room.

Juliember yanks the death knight’s pants off, then scatters their clothes around the room. She winks at Koltira and climbs under the blanket with Thassarian. “Good night, Deathweaver.”

Koltira chuckles. “Sweet dreams.” He sets the key to the room on the dresser and leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He smiles at Anarchaia. “And now we wait.”

Anarchaia returns the grin. “For how long do you think?”

Koltira shrugs. “I have no idea. Do you want to wait here or go find something else to spend our time on?”

The mage hums a laugh. “What do you suggest? What time is it?”

He shrugs again. “I have no idea.”

Anarchaia shrugs and grabs his hand. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t let go.” The two disappear in a flash of sparkling light. When they reappear, they’re standing atop one of the rings floating near the top of the tallest spire of the Violet Citadel. She holds tightly onto his hand as the wind blows past.

Koltira’s eyes widen. “Oh, my gods…”

Anarchaia laughs over the rushing wind then gestures to the view—the ocean sparkling in the setting sun, the glamourous harbor of Suramar, the snowy peaks of Highmountain. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Koltira tries to smile but it ends up as more of a grimace. “Y-yeah. It’s…something else. Um. Ana, we’re drunk and there’s no railing.”

Anarchaia turns to him and tilts her head with a crooked smile. “Are you afraid? I won’t let you fall.”

“It’s not the fall you have to be afraid of. It’s the landing.” He tries to ignore the height and looks out at the view. “Yes, Ana, the view is amazing.”

“Well, I won’t let you land, either. Not hard, anyway.” Anarchaia’s smile fades as she studies his face. “Are you afraid of heights?” She straightens. “Oh gods, Koltira, I’m so sorry!”

Koltira shrugs. “Oh, it’s fine. Really.” He purses his lips. “It’s just that most other things that can kill me, I can defend myself against…but not falling. Oh, no…not falling.” He gives a nervous chuckle.

Anarchaia frowns and reaches for his other hand. “Don’t let go,” she says with a hint of regret in her voice and the two teleport back to the center of Dalaran. She readjusts her windswept hood and bites her lip. “I’m sorry. I-I had no idea.”

Koltira blinks as he adjusts to the new scenery. “Ana, it’s fine. And I really thought you’d guessed it at the waterfall.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m fine with cliffs, which is what you _said_ we would go to. But that spire…” He turns to look up at it and shudders. “There’s…nothing to it. Just…nothing!”

Anarchaia gives another crooked smile beneath her mask. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” Her smile widens at his flustered state. “No spires, then. Got it. I’ll change my request then.”

Koltira purses his lips and gives a small growl. “Don’t change on account of me. I’m just a big baby, I can get over it.”

Anarchaia shakes her head and takes his hand. “Having a rational fear doesn’t make you a baby.” She kisses his cheek through her mask. “It makes you intelligent. Come, we’ll sit under the sky behind the citadel.”

Koltira gives her hand a squeeze. “At least it’s solid ground.”

The mage leads him to the bush-lined back wall of the Violet Citadel. She holds out a finger, then conjures a thin outdoor blanket that flutters to the grass, and a bottle of red wine. “This is technically a high up place.”

Koltira helps the mage to sitting, holding her hand, though he knows she doesn’t need the help. “This, I’m fine with.” He sits beside her and looks out at the world. “It’s the illusion of solid ground. Makes it easier.”

Anarchaia uncorks the bottle and the stopper flies over the edge of city limits. “Did you get any accolades for finishing your mission?”

“Mograine said, ‘Good job.’ Does that count?”

Anarchaia whistles and nods. “Wow. Quite the achievement.” She pulls up her mask and conjures two cups to pour the wine into.

“Not all of us have superiors who adore us.” He lies back and looks up at the green clouds covering the sky.

Anarchaia gives a small laugh. “Master doesn’t _adore_ me, if that’s what you’re implying. Though if we’re comparing the two, then yes.”

Koltira scoffs. “He adores you. And I’m pretty sure if he knew _exactly_ how close we are… Well, I’d never see you again, that’s for sure.”

Anarchaia blinks and straightens. “You think he’s _jealous_?” She chortles. “Koltira, please.”

Koltira shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s jealousy… There’s something else.” He looks over at the mage and lifts a shoulder in a shrug.

Anarchaia furrows her brow in confusion and curiosity. “Something like…?”

“General concern over you getting ‘so close’ to one of us—not just me.” Koltira sets his hand on her thigh. “I’m sure it’s just something boring. Maybe it _is_ jealousy.”

Anarchaia sets a hand over his reflexively. “I’ll confront him about it.” She pours the wine into one of the ivory cups and offers it. She lowers her voice to nearly a whisper and smiles. “I bet Juliember is doing more than just taking a nap.”

Koltira laughs. “With him completely out?” He takes the cup and drinks. “Maybe to herself…to thoughts of you.” He grins evilly.

Anarchaia gives another flustered titter and flushes. “Only because she doesn’t know what I look like.”

Koltira shrugs. “I have thoughts of you and I know what you look like.” He winks up at her.

The mage pours herself wine and sloshes it about in the glass mindlessly. “Well I suppose you’re special then. Less judgmental than the rest.” She sips. “Or blind.”

“Madam, _madam_, I am absolutely injured that you would suggest I’m blind. _My_ vision is perfect.” He moves to set his leg on her thigh and look up at her. “And right now I see a giant nitwit.”

Anarchaia smiles and opens her mouth, looking around then back at him. “Surely you don’t mean _me_.” She laughs, free hand on her chest. “I don’t take too kindly to insults, sir. I suggest you retract.”

He shrugs. “Don’t act like a nitwit and you won’t be called one.”

Anarchaia scoffs and hits him weakly in the chest, then folds her arms and upturns her nose. “Keep talking and you’ll get more of the same.”

“Being ignored or light tapping?”

Anarchaia pouts and sets her cup down. “Both.”

Koltira chuckles. “I’m simply terrified. Please don’t. I can’t take much more. The horror.” He reaches a hand up to tap her nose.

Anarchaia opens her lips to bite down on his finger and refuses to let go.

Koltira purses his lips at her. “If you don’t let me go, then I may be forced to do something I’d rather not do.”

The mage gives a toothy grin, his finger still wedged inside. “I thare you.”

Koltira reaches his other hand up, finger curved like claws. He sets the tips on her ribs and narrows his eyes. “Don’t make me.”

A shock of panic sets through the mage but she remains still. She narrows her eyes in return. In a final act of steadfastness, she bites down a little harder.

“Ow,” Koltira growls. He twitches his fingers.

Anarchaia jerks and giggles but refuses to let go. She breathes heavily and grins, knowing what’s to come. “You’ll haff tuh do better than that.”

Koltira angles to kneel face to face with her. Instead of tickling her more, he leans in to kiss her around his finger.

Anarchaia clenches her eyes shut as she braces herself for the imminent tickling, then jumps when she feels his lips against hers. Unable to resist, she releases his finger to more completely press their lips together.

“How’s that for my worst?” he asks. He wraps his arm around her waist to pull her closer.

Anarchaia hums and smiles, running her tongue over her lower lip. “I think you can do worse.”

“I can,” he says, “but do I need to?”

“Hm. I suppose not.” She turns herself to put her head in his lap and smiles up at him. “Romantic terrorism. That’s new.”

“Are you saying you don’t like it?” He strokes her mask as he would her hair.

She giggles, heart fluttering behind her breast. “I’m not saying that, no.”

Koltira smiles out at the world. “How are you enjoying the view?”

Anarchaia folds her hands over her stomach. “Very much so, thank you,” she responds, unmoving.

He sighs in contentment and threads his fingers through hers.

Anarchaia squeezes his fingers with hers. “I’ve honestly never felt quite as happy with anyone as I do you,” she admits. “It’s a shame I had to steal you.”

“Opened my eyes, is more like it. I wasn’t happy anymore. And she… She hates me.”

Anarchaia frowns some. “I don’t think she hates you. She seemed to prefer you alive–or _unalive,_ rather. So…there’s that.”

“Dying changed her. Made her angry and full of hate. I think you would’ve liked her alive.”

Anarchaia frowns. “That’s always interesting, isn’t it? How we can die in similar fashions but come back differently.” She rubs the backs of his fingers with a hard thumb. “And I’m sure I would have. She seemed liked a strong woman.”

“I think you’re a strong woman. I would’ve liked to know you in life, I think.”

Anarchaia shakes her head. “I hold no strong qualities. That being said, I’m not too different than I was. Save for the crushing lack of self-confidence. Heh.”

“I’d still have liked to meet you in life.” He sets his hand on her cheek.

Anarchaia smiles. “I’d have liked to have met you, too.” She sighs contently and looks past him into the sky. “I wonder how different life would be if we had.” She gives a laugh through her nose. “I’d have probably still died.”

Koltira gives her a little shake. “What makes you say that?”

Anarchaia shrugs. “You wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with a kid like me. You’re handsome, funny, intelligent. I was just an _exotic_ barmaid. Events wouldn’t have played out much differently.”

Koltira bristles. “I beg your pardon, but I dated _two_ barmaids and there was a third I was gaining interest in—though she knew _nothing_ of archery or combat or…well, anything. But she made a great mixed drink. That got derailed when Alisbeth arrived. And to be fair, I’ve never dated outside of Quel’dorei. You would’ve been _exotic_ to me.”

Anarchaia readjusts her legs to rest an ankle on a knee. “I was exotic to everyone. And you’re saying you’d have protected me from that band of rogues?”

Koltira purses his lips. “Had I been around to, yes. But I suppose you’re right.”

Anarchaia gives a reassuring smile and reaches up to stroke his ear. “I know you would have if you could. Though, that was a big reason I didn’t have many boyfriends. Not a lot of people in Duskwood. The ones I did have worked at the tavern I did.”

Koltira closes his eyes as she strokes his ear. “I suppose this’ll do. Better dead than never?”

Anarchaia nods and hums a laugh, her hand dropping back onto her stomach. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Koltira echoes.


	10. Chapter 10

Grimory scrambles to pull away from Alisbeth’s lips as the door opens. “Honestly, is knocking looked down upon, now?” he grumbles under his breath, smoothing his hair back in a moment of self-consciousness.

Diori smiles at the two and crosses the room to them. “We saw a blue woman on the way up here. She gave me this pretty flower. It grew out of her _hand_, it was so cool! She only had three fingers, though.”

Alisbeth smiles excitedly at her daughter. “A blue woman? Did she have horns or tusks?” She puts her index fingers up like horns, then down by her lips like tusks as she says each one.

“It was a—”

Alisbeth snaps her finger at Taveth. “Don’t make me tie you up. I’m asking Diori.”

Diori brings her index fingers up to pull at her lower lip. “She ‘as ‘eally nice,” she says, fingers still in her mouth.

“Oh! You met Junkrat! I miss her. I would have said hi.” Alisbeth smiles in excitement.

Diori giggles. “The scary lady with the mask and Koltira were with her. They smelled like alcohol.”

“They’re, um…doing something horrific to Thassarian. Promised to tell me what it was later, of course.” Taveth says.

Grimory clears his throat. “Yeah, they aren’t good role models.” He picks up the letter again, and for a moment wonders if relinquishing it is the right choice. “Diori, your mother sent you a lot of letters, yes?”

The small elf nods. “Father read them to me when I was little.”

Grimory holds out the sealed scroll. “Well there’s one you didn’t get.”

Diori blinks her large, cerulean eyes and takes the paper. “What’s it say?” she says curiously.

Alisbeth smiles. “This was the first letter I ever wrote you. It explains the decision I made and talks about your father. I wanted you to have it when you turned one hundred and ten. When you were old enough to make the choice for yourself.”

Diori runs her thumb over the seal, wondering herself is she should break it. “What choice?” she responds quietly. “And if you knew why wouldn’t you tell me right away?”

Grimory winces, the tone in her voice not promising anything good.

Alisbeth frowns. “Old enough to make the choice to see him, in case you weren’t told. Because maybe they wouldn’t tell you. And…they didn’t…” She swallows at the answer she knows she must give for the other question. “I didn’t…I didn’t know. I forgot. I have trouble remembering, since I died. And It was so long ago… I forgot Grim.” She frowns and stares at her hands.

Grimory sets a hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder then kneels before Diori. “No one involved in any of this wanted you to hurt. You have to believe that.” He sobers. “Everyone did what they thought was best for you.”

Diori frowns and glances between Grimory’s horns, teeth, and tattoos. “I’ve been trying not to think about that,” she says, looking away. “I’m happy in Stormwind.”

Grimory blinks and reaches for her hand. “No one here is trying to convince you of anything. We just…want to…” He sighs. _I don’t know what we want._

Alisbeth fights the urge to run away, upset. She smiles best she can. “It’s okay. You don’t have to read it and you don’t have to leave Stormwind. You can do whatever you want to do.”

Diori fidgets, then breaks the seal to the scroll. She glosses over it, her eyes welling with tears and she’s uncertain as of why. “When did you send this?” she sniffles, looking up at Alisbeth.

She fights against the tears springing up for the simple fact that Diori is crying. “That was tucked into your blanket when you were taken to live in Stormwind. I put it there myself right before I kissed you goodbye.” A tear breaks free at the memory and she resists admitting how she’d changed her mind at that moment. How hard she’d cried.

Taveth kneels beside Diori and sets his palm between her shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”

Diori sniffles again and wipes her eyes. “Yeah,” she squares her shoulders as though she wasn’t crying and looks at Taveth. “How long have _you_ known?”

Taveth’s brow furrows. “I’ve been finding all of this out as you have. Father is the only one that knew. He gave me these letters when I went home earlier.”

Diori scowls and looks at the letter again, then rolls it up neatly and turns to Grimory and Alisbeth. “I don’t feel like you’re my parents,” she says pointedly.

A pang of hurt pierces Grimory’s heart and he nods. “I know you don’t. It’s understandable if—”

“But I want to,” Diori finishes with a frown, wringing the parchment nervously in her hands.

Alisbeth smiles and gives a small laugh of joy. “Just let me know what you want. You can have anything, I promise. I’ll take you on adventures and—”

Taveth holds up his hand. “Slow down, Ali.”

“Sorry.” She bites into her lower lip. “But you _can_. Anything at all. I can get it for you.”

Diori shakes her head. “I don’t want things. I just…” She crooks her mouth to the right. “I just want to get to know you. The real you.” She looks at Grimory. “And you.”

The demon hunter smiles and takes her hand again. “That’s all we want, too. You don’t have to see us as your parents, but we’d like to at least be there for you when you need us.”

Alisbeth nods her agreement with Grimory. “You can keep calling me cousin Ali, if you want. And I’ll answer every question you have.”

Diori smiles and strides over to the bed, then blinks. “Where did all the toys go?”

“Uh…the wardrobe,” Grimory says with a nervous chuckle, standing.

The girl shrugs and hops up onto the comforter. “Can I stay here for a little bit?” she asks Taveth between the other two.

Taveth stands and furrows his brow. “Alone? What about Azsuna? I thought you wanted to see the ghost people.”

Alisbeth’s smile falters. “They’re not…going anywhere, right?” She chuckles to seem less eager. “I’m sure you can take her tomorrow, right?”

Diori gestures to the death knight. “I already found my ghost person.”

Alisbeth hides her grin behind her fingertips. Unable to resist, she wraps her arms around the girl.

Taveth smiles. “All right. You can stay. But I _do_ have to go to Azsuna.” He makes eye contact with the other two. “In case I’m not back, dinner at seven, bed at eight. _Sharp._” He looks pointedly at Diori. “None of your typical trickery for these two, right?”

Diori nods, pulling a hand behind her back to cross her fingers. “I promise!”

Grimory gives Taveth a grateful smile. “Thanks again.”

Alisbeth jumps up to hug her cousin. “Yes, thank you Tabbef!”

He looks at Grimory over her shoulder. “You were right. It was her choice.” He turns for the door and gives a final wave. “I’ll try not to be too late.”

Alisbeth sighs after he leaves. “So, what do you want to do? Anything in particular?”

Diori sets the letter on the nightstand. “What was war like?” she blurts as though she’d been holding in the question in for a long while.

“Which one?” Alisbeth asks. “I was in a lot. I fought Arthas’s armies twice and I followed Kael’thas to Outland and fought the Burning Legion, as I am now. Or did you mean Grim?”

Diori nods at Alisbeth, excitement in her eyes. She turns to Grimory at his mention. “You were in a war too? Besides the one right now?”

The Illidari nods and sets himself beside her on the bed. “Ten years ago during the Legion’s second invasion.”

Diori furrows her brow and looks back to Alisbeth. “And you guys lived? Or…survived?”

Alisbeth laughs. “I _lived_ through three wars. I thought I would die in battle so many times.” She shrugs emphatically. “It wasn’t war that took me, though.” She chews on her lower lip, then her lips curve in a sly grin. “Want to see where I defended Silvermoon? It’s also where Koltira died. We can call it a history lesson if Taveth finds out.” She laughs.

Diori gasps in excitement. “_Can we?!_”

Grimory looks up at Alisbeth. “I don’t think we should take her out of the city, Ali.”

Alisbeth’s smile doesn’t waver. “Why not? We’re not going to lose her. She’s not going to run off, right? We’ll just go take the port—Oh.” She frowns and casts a sad gaze at the girl. “I don’t think we can go.”

Diori’s face falls. “Whuh? Why not?”

Alisbeth drops onto the bed with a frown. “I don’t think they’ll let you through the portal… You’re Quel’dorei. You live in Stormwind. We’re Sin’dorei. We can’t go to Stormwind, we’re not allowed.”

Diori frowns. “I don’t understand. We look almost exactly the same. Why can’t everyone just get along?” She furrows her brow. “Would they hurt us?”

Grimory nods. “Most likely. The factions take no chances. Even against those who hold no loyalties.”

“If we could just _get_ there, we could sneak her into the destroyed part of the city. That’s where it all happened, anyway.” She purses her lips and stares off into space, thinking.

Grimory grits his teeth. “Ali, you know I’m all for adventure, but she’s too young to be venturing—”

“_I am not_,” Diori cries, fists clenched. “I’ll stay close. I won’t get lost. I promise!”

Alisbeth stares between the two, unsure what to do. Finally, she closes her eyes and breathes out. “The journey would be too far to do in one afternoon.” She gives Diori a wicked smile. “But that’s okay. We’ll do it another time. For now, we can just answer your questions. How does that sound?”

Diori pouts and folds her arms but concedes. “Okay,” she groans, then reaches out to touch Alisbeth’s cold skin. “Did it hurt to die?”

Alisbeth bites her lip. _Lie._ “Well, it—” _No! She won’t trust you again if you lie!_ “It was—” _But she’s so young! She doesn’t need to know how awful it was!_ Alisbeth closes her eyes to concentrate, resisting the urge to scream. “It did. I wanted to lie to you, but that’s not a good way to start off. It hurt a lot. Not all deaths hurt. But…” She thinks about that night and sighs. “Dying didn’t hurt. It’s what happened before, that’s what hurts. Dying was like…” She smiles. “It was like waking up to a beautiful morning after a stormy night. Just to be done with the pain.”

Grimory’s eyes widen at Alisbeth. “Th-that’s extremely subjective though!” he corrects looking down at Diori’s wonder stricken face. “Dying sometimes takes hours—_days_ even. There’s nothing romantic about it.”

Diori’s face falls into one of mild terror. “Did you die, too?”

Grimory pauses. “Well, yes, many times, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make here. Just…I…” His lips purse. “Don’t die.”

Diori smiles before laughing. “I don’t want to, silly. I was just wondering.”

Alisbeth furrows her brow at Grimory. “I wasn’t saying it was _romantic!_ Just that the actual death itself isn’t bad—it’s the events leading up to…” She purses her lips and stares at her hands in her lap. “This isn’t a good subject. What else do you want to know?”

Diori sees the distress in her mother’s face and nods. She points at Grimory’s horns. “I’ve seen a lot of elves with those. I want some. How did you get them?”

Grimory chuckles. “You don’t want these. People don’t like them.”

“I want them. Can I touch them?”

Grimory smiles, reminded of Alisbeth when they’d met months ago. “Sure.”

Diori brings a hand up to grab one and _ooh_s softly. “Bumpy.”

Alisbeth giggles. “I really like his horns, too. He didn’t have them the first time we met.” She studies him, chewing on a fingernail. “He looks very different from when I first met him. I wonder if I would have remembered you, if you looked the same.”

“You don’t look the same either, you know.” Grimory smiles up at her. “You had black hair and this peachy skin. And these big blue eyes anyone could get lost in.”

Diori looks between the two of them, eyes wide with the romantic image. “Did— _Do_ you two love each other?”

Grimory snaps out of his memory and frantically looks between the two. “U-uh…”

Alisbeth’s smile drops and her eyes bug. She jumps from the bed and goes to the door and opens it. _You promised!_ She slams the door and presses her back to it. “I said I wouldn’t do that. And I didn’t.” She holds up her fist as a small victory. “We’re just friends. Right, Grim? Just friends.” She gives an awkward _heh_.

Grimory blinks. After another moment of flicking between the two girls’ faces, he clears his throat. “Yeah. Just friends.” He glances back down to Diori and gives a fang-filled smile. “We…didn’t really know one another very long back then.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Or now.”

Diori scrunches her face. “Why would you two have a baby if you don’t love each other?”

Grimory gives a loud, awkward _eeehhhhhh_ that trails into the next topic. “So, what about you, girlie? What do you like?”

The small elf narrows her eyes, but thinks on it and smiles. “I like dragons. And cinnamon apples. And horse rides. And flowers.”

Alisbeth smiles. “I can borrow Bloodmist sometime and we can go for a ride!” She sits back on the bed. “What kind of flowers do you like?”

Diori hums in thought, bringing a hand up to touch her father’s horn again. “I like peacebloom. And lilies. And lilacs. Oh! And mageroyal.” She turns to smile up at Alisbeth. “Is Bloodmist your horse?”

“Those are all beautiful choices in flowers. I don’t really know what my favorite is, now.” She taps her lower lip and thinks. “Guess I’ll have to figure it out! And Bloodmist is Koltira’s horse, but she likes me more. I don’t know why, either. But she’s really nice and she _loves_ rotten apples.”

Diori scrunches her nose again. “_Rotten_ apples? Is she a skeletal horse? I’ve seen a lot of those here in Dalaran. They’re _sooo_ cool. I tried to pet one and it reared at me, though. The guy on its back yelled. It was fun.” She looks at Grimory. “Does it hurt when you bite your tongue?”

Grimory gives a snort of a laugh and looks at Alisbeth, then back down. “Yes. A lot. Blood everywhere.” He sticks his mutated tongue out at her.

Diori giggles and turns back to Alisbeth. “Do you guys live here now?”

“I live in this room, actually. It’s mine.” Alisbeth says, running her fingers through her hair like a comb.

Diori looks around as though judging the room for herself. “I like it. It’s bright. Bigger than my room.” She glances back at Grimory. “Do you always walk around shirtless? Don’t you get cold?”

The demon hunter lowers a brow at her, but smiles all the same. “My head doesn’t fit in most clothing, now. And no, I don’t get cold. Not often, anyway.” He tilts his head. “Do you like living in Stormwind?”

The little elf nods emphatically. “Yes. Everyone there is so nice. The apple vendor gives me an apple every morning when we walk through the market to get to school.”

Alisbeth rests a cheek on her fist and smiles at the little girl. _She looks just like him._ She giggles, then gasps as she notices it. The same charming little grin; a strong nose, rather than Alisbeth’s own narrow, pointed one. She smiles wider and hugs her knees to her chest as she watches them.

Diori turns back to the death knight as though it’s her turn to answer questions. “Did you get to see the Sunwell? What was it like?”

“No,” Alisbeth frowns. “I was going to, but I was so busy. I would’ve told you in my letters if I had.” She lightly pokes Diori’s nose.

The girl blinks, then frowns. “Did you kill a lot of people?” she asks, referring to the wars.

Alisbeth shakes her head. “No. They weren’t people. They were just…monsters.”

“How did you die?” Diori asks cautiously. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

Alisbeth blinks and frowns. She clenches her fists. _You promised._ “I w-was…captured. By two forsaken. They were upset…” _She doesn’t need to know that part._ She takes a deep breath and looks to Grimory for strength. “They spent a lot of time…hurting me… And then they hurt me too much and…the pain stopped. Then I woke up like this. Koltira’s friend brought me back.” She wipes her cheek, realizing she’s crying.

Diori frowns, her lip quivering as the story progresses. She puts a hand on Alisbeth’s leg and sniffles. “Are you happy now, though?”

She smiles, despite still crying. “Of course I’m happy. You’re here! I am so happy to see you.” She wraps her arms around Diori and pulls her into a hug.

Diori returns the hug and grins wide. She cranes her head back to look at Grimory. “Are you happy, too?”

Grimory sobers and gives a sad smile. “Yeah, I’m happy.” He leans forward to hug both of them together.

Alisbeth adjusts to wrap one arm around him. She smiles wider. “This is all I’ve wanted for a long time.”

Diori smiles as her cheeks are squished on both sides. In the shadows of her parents’ embrace she gasps. “Your tattoos _glow_! Do all horned people’s tattoos glow?”

Grimory pulls away to look down at himself as tough just noticing for the first time. “They do. And we’re called demon hunters. Or Illidari.” He ruffles her hair.

“Illidari,” she repeats with a nod. She looks at Alisbeth. “Do death knights have glowy tattoos too?”

Alisbeth shakes her head, running her own fingers along Grimory’s tattoos. “No. Only Koltira has tattoos. I like his, but I like the green of these. What’s your favorite color?”

“I like red. Like the kind apples are.” She blinks up at Alisbeth. “Koltira was the white-haired elf from earlier. He had your sword. Who is he?”

“I like red too! So did my father. Maybe it’s a Redblade thing. What about you, Grim?”

Diori looks at Grimory for an answer to her lack of any answer, but the man merely shrugs. “I’m partial to purple,” he says with a smile. “Do you like school?”

Diori nods. “It’s hard sometimes. But I get good grades. I try really hard.”

“What are you studying?”

“To be a Priest,” Diori responds with a proud tone.

“What kind?”

“All kinds!” she says, an excited smile on her face.

Alisbeth runs her fingers through Diori’s hair. “Do you want to help people?”

Diori nods again. “Yeah. Like aunt…or I guess grandmother. Father told me about her.” She looks down to fiddle with her fingers. “I wanna be like her.”

Alisbeth strokes the girl’s hair. “She was an amazing woman.”

Diori looks at Grimory. “What are my other grandparents like?”

The demon hunter glances away, wondering if he should be truthful. “They’re farmers. Very humble and kind. Grandmother Runi makes a great apple pie.” He smiles at the delight in her eyes. “I’ll take you to meet them sometime.” He glances up at Alisbeth as though speaking to her as well.

“That sounds wonderful.” Alisbeth glances out the window. “You probably eat dinner before bed? Is it dinner time? Are you hungry?” She eyes both of them.

Grimory looks at the ticking clock in the corner of the room. “I can always eat,” he says with a smile.

Diori nods. “Dinner at seven, bed at eight.” She turns to Alisbeth with a stern face. “_Sharp_.” She holds it for a moment, then can’t help but giggle.

Alisbeth giggles and scoops her up onto her shoulder, then goes to her dresser to fish out some gold. “Is twenty enough for food?” she asks Grimory as she grabs a handful from her large coin purse and drops them on the top of the dresser to count.

Grimory nods and stands to stretch. “It’s plenty. There’s actually a nice café on the other side of town. I bet they have those cinnamon apples you like.”

Diori bounces on Alisbeth’s shoulder. “I wanna go there. Let’s go there.”

Alisbeth slips the coins into her smaller pouch and tosses it at Grimory. “I don’t have pockets.” She grins, grabs the room key, and heads out, ducking so as not to hit Diori’s head on the doorframe.

“_What the hell?_” The shout comes from down the hall.

Alisbeth cocks an eyebrow. “That sounded like Thassarian.”

Grimory chuckles and covers Diori’s ears from the continued stream of expletives coming from the room. “Taveth did say they were pranking him.”

Alisbeth giggles. “I wish I’d been in on it. I really do. I can’t wait to hear about this. Come on, before she learns words Taveth will kill me for.” She grips Diori by the thighs and races down the stairs.

Grimory follows the two down into the street. “Already getting dark,” he muses up at the setting sun. “At least out here in the isles it stays warm all night.”

Diori nods. “I like the cold and snow, though. It’s fun to put on lots of clothes and go out in the quiet.”

Alisbeth grins. “I like the cold, too. When I was alive I liked it because it meant Winter Veil was coming—and that I could train longer without the risk of heat exhaustion.” She absently reaches out to take Grimory’s hand to pull him to walk beside them. “Now, I don’t even feel it.”

Grimory follows beside. Once in the company of the pedestrians outside, he suddenly feels self-conscious of how the three must appear and loosens his grip on Alisbeth’s hand.

“You don’t feel anything?” Diori says, gabbing onto Alisbeth’s ears like reigns. “Not even the heat? What about this?” She pats the top of her mother’s head.

Alisbeth laughs and releases Grimory’s hand to tickle Diori’s side. “I can feel all of that. It’s just that the cold doesn’t bother me. It would have to be…incredibly cold for me to feel it.”

Grimory tucks his thumbs into his belt to avoid anymore handholding. He sets himself at an outdoor table with a circular bench and unopened parasol just as the waitress on duty lights the lamps outside with a wave of her hand. “Hi there, folks,” she hums as she approaches. “How are we this evening?”

Diori giggles and kicks as she’s ticked. She bounces again on Alisbeth’s shoulders when the waitress addresses them. “Well, thank you!” she sings.

The death knight lifts the girl from her shoulder and sets her on the bench beside Grimory. “These two would like something to eat.” She smiles at the waitress.

“Well you’ve come to the right place,” the maid chuckles before looking at the little elf. “What would you like?”

“Fried cinnamon apples!” Diori says without missing a beat. “And orange juice.”

Grimory chuckles and shrugs. “Make it two, I guess. Only I’d prefer some mead in my orange juice, if you’d be so kind.”

The human woman nods and grins. “We don’t have either of those things on our menu but I’m sure we have the means to make them,” she says with a smile down at Diori. She turns to Alisbeth. “Anything for you?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing for me. Thanks.”

The waitress nods in understanding and disappears inside.

Grimory looks between the two girls and rests his cheek on a fist. “What do you like to do for fun?”

“Uhmmm,” Diori begins, swinging her legs. “I like to ride. And jump rope. Swimming is fun too. Brother has been teaching me chess. I’m not very good.”

Alisbeth nods as she sits. “Chess takes practice, patience, and planning. Keep at it.”

Diori smooths her hands over the warm stone table. “Do you know how to play?”

She nods. “I do. Or I did. I haven’t had the chance to play in a few years.” She picks at the edge of the table, suddenly feeling odd—as though she doesn’t fit with the two living elves at the table and about to eat. “Grim plays, I think?”

Diori glances over at the demon hunter and Grimory gives a nervous shrug. “Eh…Ana was teaching me but…we don’t spend much time with one another anymore, so the lessons kinda stopped.” He smiles. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’m no good, either.”

Diori chortles and draws figures on the table. After a moment of silence, she speaks without looking up. “If you hadn’t sent me away, do you think we could have been a family?”

_Why can’t you be a family now?_ Alisbeth looks away from the two and shrugs, unable to answer either question.

Grimory desperately glances at Alisbeth, then clears his throat when she looks away. “I like to think so,” he says with an endearing grin. He thanks the waitress when she sets down their items and turns back to Diori. “You know you can always come see us whenever you want.”

The girl shrugs and nods, feeling the tension caused by her question. “Okay.”

_Say it._ “I…” _Say it!_ “I wanted…to be a family.” She stares at the table to avoid their gazes. “But I thought…” She looks at Grimory. _But he did want you._ She nods. “I was wrong.”

Grimory furrows his brow and glances away. “She just thought we were too young,” he says, placing a hand on Diori’s shoulder as she stuffs a slice of apple in her mouth; the heat of it warms her cheek.

“I understand,” she says. She swallows and looks over at Alisbeth. “I know you guys are just friends, but could we maybe try? In the future, at least?”

Alisbeth does her best to hide the eagerness that floods her. _Remember what he said?_ She glances at him and frowns. _He won’t change his mind. Give her some false hope anyway._ “Maybe,” she forces a small smile and nods.

Grimory tousles his daughter’s hair and gives an uneasy laugh. “Why don’t we take you to the range after this and your mother can teach you to shoot?”

Diori nearly chokes on her apple as she looks at her. “_Can we?_”

Alisbeth jumps, her eyes wide in surprise. “Shoot? Shoot what? _Arrows?_” She laughs at him. “I don’t shoot arrows. I put them in the bow and they fly off in random directions. Perhaps you’re confusing _paladin_ with _farstrider_.”

Grimory shrugs and laughs. “I figured you were better than I, so I didn’t volunteer.”

“I guess then it’ll be an adventure for us all. The one thing I _do_ know is how to not shoot someone in the a— rear.” She winks at Grimory. “I suppose I know enough to get started?”

Grimory winces but smiles and fills his own mouth with an apple. “Just be careful. We don’t need matching scars. We already look enough alike.” He winks down at Diori.

The girl giggles and drains her orange juice in excitement. “I wanna learn to shoot people in the butt!”

Alisbeth laughs out loud, then covers her mouth. “Don’t shoot people in the butt.” She snerks again. “And I think your father’s scar is from someone who _didn’t_ know how to shoot. So, I’m sure you could already shoot people in the butt.” She widens her eyes. “But don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t shoot people at all.”

Diori grins in amusement and looks up at Grimory. “You were shot in the butt?” she asks, mouth full.

Grimory nods hesitantly then gives a reserved laugh as she giggles.


	11. Chapter 11

Grimory and Diori make short work of their meals and the demon hunter leaves payment and tip on the table before standing. “Ready to go shoot some asses?” he says with an impish grin as he stretches.

Diori pumps her fists, eyes bright with determination and excitement. “_Yes!!_”

Alisbeth stands to walk with them. “No asses. And don’t say ass, Grim. It’s a rude word.”

Grimory pulls Diori onto his shoulders and grins at Alisbeth. “Ass.”

Diori grabs onto his horns and looks at Alisbeth as though willing her to reprimand the Illidari.

Alisbeth narrows her eyes. “Don’t make me send you to my room.”

Grimory chuckles. “Time out? I’m so scared.”

Alisbeth laughs evilly. “Remember Sporeham? The tavern?” She puts her finger to her lips. “Shh. Quiet. Remember?”

Grimory narrows his eyes. “Are you threatening me with a good time?”

Alisbeth grins. “Who said it would be good? I can be mean, you know. I can be really mean.”

Grimory _pfft_s and shakes his head. “Maybe to people who hurt you. But I haven’t. So what are you gonna do to me that’s mean?”

“She could tickle you,” Diori giggles.

Her grin turns evil. “Oh, I have an idea. And you won’t like it. Not one bit.” She smiles up at Diori. “Or I could _tickle you!_” She reaches up to tickle the girl’s ribs.

The girl giggles loudly and bats at Alisbeth’s hand. “No fair!”

Grimory snerks. “I’m shaking.”

Alisbeth pinches him on the side. “Oh, you should be.”

He hisses and steps away from her assailing fingers. “I’ve seen squirrels scarier than you,” he sneers playfully as they turn onto the range.

“That’s only because they go after nuts.” Alisbeth winks at him and bounds over to the hutch where the bows and arrows are kept. “I need a child’s training bow and two adult bows, please.”

The vendor sets a child’s bow on the counter. “What tensile strength for the adult bows?”

Alisbeth turns her mouth to one side as she thinks. “High. Let’s try one hundred pounds.”

The vendor sets two bows on the table. “Right, the children’s bow has no rental fee. Adult is five gold per hour. Arrows are ten copper a piece and no refunds for un-fired arrows.”

She tests each bow. “This isn’t one hundred pounds,” she says. She scoots one bow back to him. “I said two one-hundred-pound adult bows.”

The vendor scoffs. “I’m not going to be responsible for you hurting yourself, little miss.”

Alisbeth squares her jaw and narrows her eyes, glancing between the vendor and her daughter and wondering if an outburst would frighten the girl too much.

Grimory chuckles and sets Diori down. “Maybe Diori can use the one hundred bow and you use the kid’s bow?” He gives her a devilish grin and swipes the heavier threaded bow. Hey hands it to the little elf at his side.

Diori pulls at the string as hard as she can but it refuses to bend. She pouts and hands it back. “One day I’ll pull it back!” She takes the smaller one from the counter.

Alisbeth takes her coin purse from Grimory and sets six gold on the counter. “Give the girl some arrows.”

The vendor sets a bundle of children’s arrows and a bundle of adult arrow on the table.

The death knight shoves them at Grimory. “Take her over there so I may have a _word_ with this…_gentleman_.” She growls the last word through clenched teeth.

“Don’t do anything rash,” Grimory says through a painful smile and leads Diori away by a hand.

Alisbeth forces a smile as the two walk away, then turns her glare on the vendor. “Give me a one-hundred-pound bow. Now.”

He shrugs. “You’re not an archer, and I doubt you have the strength to pull a one hundred. I’m doing you a favor.”

She clenches her fists, her eyes flaring into furious flurries. She reaches forward, but stops herself from grabbing him. Instead, she picks up the eighty-pound bow and pulls the string with pathetic ease. But she doesn’t stop. She pulls until the wood groans and the string wobbles. With a sharp _snap!_ the limb at the top cracks and splits. Alisbeth tilts her head to avoid the piece of wood that flies at her. She slams the broken bow on the table.

“Give. Me. The. One-hundred. Pound. Bow… Now.”

The vendor doesn’t move as he stares at the broken bow.

“_Before I do this to you!_” Alisbeth screams.

He jumps and gets down another one-hundred-pound bow. He sets it on the table. “That’s five—”

Alisbeth snatches the bow from him and spits in his hand. “Fuck your five gold.” She leans over the counter and helps herself to a quiver of arrows.

“H-Hey! Those are—”

She shoots him an evil look.

“All right. Happy shooting. Heh.”

Grimory straightens from helping Diori draw the string and lifts an eyebrow. “Getting Ana in trouble?” he laughs.

Alisbeth purses her lips. “He deserved it. I’ll pay _her_ for the bow, but I’m not giving another copper to that swindler.” She scoffs and nocks an arrow. “Bow more fitting…injure myself…show him injure.” She looses the arrow and it embeds itself deep into the eye of the target dummy. She widens her eyes. “Oops.”

Diori pouts. “Hey, you said you couldn’t shoot!”

Grimory laughs. “She’s much better when she’s angry, apparently.” He kneels again to help her pull the string back and assist her with her posture to the best of his knowledge. “We have a range in Mardum but you’d never catch me alive there.” He chuckles. “But I know a couple things.”

Alisbeth gives Diori an apologetic frown. “Koltira taught me while I was in Silvermoon. Just a few lessons. But…if it makes you feel any better, I was aiming at the bullseye. Which is where you should be aiming.” She chews on her lip and scrutinizes Diori. “Pull your shoulders back a bit.”

Diori does as she’s told but when she loses the arrow the shaft wobbles in the air and tumbles to the ground. She frowns.

“Practice makes perfect,” Grimory says behind her. “Make sure your grip is strong on both the string and the bow.”

“Hold the arrow between your two fingers. The trick is to let them go at the same time.” She bites her lip at Grimory. “Let’s see you do it.”

Grimory shrugs and stands upright, picking up the bow. “Prepare to be unimpressed.” He nocks an arrow and draws the string with ease. Oblivious to Diori’s look of wonderment, he looses. The shaft lands in the dummy’s shoulder.

Alisbeth giggles. “At least it wasn’t a fatal shot. Your turn, Diori. Let’s try to get that arrow to fly.”

Diori nods and pulls back another. When it flies, it wobbles again but the head lodges itself into the dirt at the dummy’s feet. “Closer,” she says with a hint of dismay.

“Much better!” Alisbeth claps in excitement. “Pull back a little farther to get the right distance.” She sighs as she thinks. “You know, a former farstrider really would come in handy right now.”

An irrational pang of jealousy surges through Grimory and he narrows an eye. “Well he’s off with a certain _scary masked lady_.”

Diori does as she’s told and the arrow flies a little farther. She bounces in excitement. “It worked!”

Alisbeth cheers. “Good job!” She smiles at Grimory and lifts an eyebrow. “What do you mean? She’s not scary.” She nocks an arrow and aims, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. She lets it fly and hits the target between the outer red and white rings. She eyes the bow suspiciously. “I think it’s enchanted.”

Grimory gestures to Diori. “That’s what she called her.”

“She _is_ scary, though.” Diori says, twirling an arrow in her fingers. “Why does she wear that mask? I bet she’s even scarier without it.” She makes a beastly face and sticks her tongue out between her teeth, fingers curled like claws.

Alisbeth makes a face. “I don’t think she’s scary at all. She’s really nice. Except that one time…when I did something bad…” She looses an arrow and it grazes the dummy’s arm, then sails off the side of the floating island. She glowers after it. “I bet I’m scarier than her. What do you think, Grim?”

Diori looks up at her mother with a gaze filled with curiosity. “What did you do?” she says as she fumbles to nock another arrow. The shaft flings from her grasp and Grimory lifts a leg to avoid its path.

The Illidari chuckles at Alisbeth. “I suppose it matters what you mean by _scary_. Do I think there are things I could do where you would try to kill me? Yes. Would I be afraid to be alone with you in a dark room? No.”

Alisbeth blinks down at the girl and purses her lips. _You can’t tell her that story!_ She looses three arrows in quick succession. One hits the target dummy’s weapon; the second sticks in the dummy’s wooden sword; the third hits where the dummy’s groin would be if it were a person. She takes a breath, closing her eyes to calm herself. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Diori pouts and grumbles. _I hate it when people say that. I_ am _older!_ “Okay.” She releases another arrow and it lands awkwardly at the dummy’s side.

Her ears twitch at Grimory’s words. _Never._ She cocks an eyebrow at her own voice in her head. _You won’t kill him. You know you won’t. Look at that little girl! She’d be so sad! … And she’d never speak to you again._ “Grim…” _Doesn’t mean you can’t hurt him really bad._ She decides not to finish what she was going to say, loosing another arrow instead. It hits the inner red ring.

Grimory glances over at the sound of his name. He waits for a long moment for her to continue, then shrugs and holds out a hand helplessly. “Yes?”

Alisbeth grits her teeth and sends more arrows into the dummy, none anywhere near the bullseye. Finally she relents. “I won’t try to kill you. Or at least I don’t want to.” She sends an arrow into where the dummy’s ear would be and drops to the ground on her rear. “Diori,” _Don’t._ “you have to know something.” _Stop._ “I’m not a good person.” _Why are you doing this?_ “And I would understand if you decide not to accept me into your life.” She looks straight at her daughter, trying to appear strong, though she’s terrified. “I kill people. Not because they deserve it, but because I’m angry. I’m angry that I died. I’m angry that I was nothing but a subject for them to torture and study until they accidentally killed me and freed me from their experiments.” She grips an arrow in her fist so tight that is snaps. “And I tried to kill Koltira. The woman in the mask saved his life—which is for the better. Really.” _You just can’t keep your mouth shut. She’s a child!_ She turns her head and hisses at the voice. “She’s old enough,” Alisbeth whispers.

Diori’s eyes widen and she makes an effort to close her mouth. “I…I know you aren’t the same Ali from the letters,” she finally says after a long moment. “So…it’s okay. I still want you around. You’re still my mother, though, right? It doesn’t matter how…how _different_ you are, now. Right?” She furrows her brow and looks away, fumbling with another arrow. “And you’re nice to me.”

Alisbeth frowns. “You should have a mother you can be proud of. I’m sorry.”

“Not everyone has a mother they’re proud of,” Diori says with a frown. “But everyone has a mother they love.”

Grimory shakes his head from his stupor, still in mild disbelief. “You aren’t a bad person, Ali.” He sets his bow down to kneel beside her. “You obviously have some clarity, which means you aren’t a bad person. A bad person doesn’t now they’re bad, right?”

“Some bad people like it, so they don’t stop.” She blinks at Diori, then her lips curve upward as though the smile had been there the whole time. “Come on, let’s see you hit a bullseye!”

Diori glances past Alisbeth at Grimory who gives a frown and a quick nod. The girl smiles back and nods, rubbing at one of her eyes and nocking another arrow.

“Take a step closer,” the demon hunter says, standing and offering to help Alisbeth to her feet.

The death knight accepts Grimory’s help up and stands behind Diori. “Lift your elbow some and try aiming a little higher than the target, so when the arrow falls, it won’t land short.”

Grimory nods. “Gotta take into account the arc.”

Diori nods and aims higher. The arrow sails directly into the dummy’s head and she jumps and screams excitedly. “I did it! _Aaaaahh!!_”

Alisbeth bounces in excitement and claps, smiling down at the girl. “Now try aiming not as high so you can hit the red circle in the middle, there.”

Diori blinks. “But I hit him in the head. He’s dead now, right?”

Alisbeth cringes. “No. The skull is much too strong for an arrow to go through into the b—…” She purses her lips and stares into the wide, blue eyes. “You know what? Why not. Stupid dummy messed with the wrong family. Now, hit him again!” She laughs.

Diori’s eyes light up and she nocks another arrow. “Prepare to be vanquished!” she shouts with a fiery determination. The arrow lodges itself into the dummy’s forearm.

Grimory laughs and pats Diori on the back hard enough to make her jerk. “Well at least he can’t attack back now.”

Diori shoots the last of her arrows and it lands near the stick serving to hold up the target. “No more,” she says with a smile and a shrug.

Grimory chuckles. “I’d let you use the rest of mine but, you know,” he takes her bow from her, “it’s probably getting late anyway.”

Alisbeth frowns. “Oh, I don’t even know what time it is.” She returns her bow and quiver to the vendor, shooting him a glare before stepping away again.

Diori pouts. “Do I have to go to bed?” she whines. “Can’t we do more stuff together?”

Grimory winces and returns the bow and unused arrows. _Taveth may not think we’re responsible if he finds out._ “Eh…” He looks at Alisbeth.

She blinks at the two. “Why are you looking at _me?_”

Grimory gives a painful grin. “Because I don’t want to be the bad guy?”

Alisbeth frowns as she assumes his hidden meaning. _You did say you’re a bad person. Maybe he agrees._ “Fine, then. Yes, you have to go to bed. Right now.” She squares her jaw and points back toward the streets of Dalaran. _Good start, Redblade!_

Diori’s eyes go wide and she sticks out her lower lip, her ears drooping.

Grimory laughs. “Oh no, missy. That won’t work on us. Right, Ali?”

She averts her gaze. “I’m not budging. Taveth said eight. Let’s go.”

Diori turns her doe eyes on Grimory. “Can’t we just go for a walk? Just a _little_ longer?”

He hesitates and rubs at the back of his neck, groaning. “I…suppose it wouldn’t hurt…”

“_Grim!_” Alisbeth stares at him, aghast.

He immediately straightens. “What? What could possibly go wrong? She’s a _little bit_ sleepy tomorrow?”

Diori smiles and hugs her father’s forearm. “I won’t be!”

Alisbeth frowns as she feels she’s losing a battle. “You promised, Grim. If you don’t keep _that_ promise, then how can you ever be trusted to keep another.” She squares her jaw, determined to keep her composure. “Diori, I said let’s go, or else…” _Yeah, show her how awful you really are! She’ll never want to see you again._ Her chin quivers. “Taveth said eight…” she finishes quietly.

Diori pulls on Grimory’s arm. “He probably isn’t even back yet.”

Grimory grits his teeth, feeling torn between the two. “Ali’s right,” he groans, taking the girl by the hand and ushering her toward the streets.

Diori pouts again. “Aw. No fun.”

“Life isn’t always fun,” Alisbeth says. She looks to the Illidari, a thankfulness in her eyes. “It’s always best to keep your promises. Stand by your word and be honorable.”

Grimory bites his lip. “Or…” He scoops Diori up into his arms and spreads his wings, smiling over at the death knight. “Live fast and screw honor.” He takes a step in the opposite direction and leaps into the air, hugging the little girl tight to himself.

“_You can fl—aaaaaaAAAAAAHHH!!_” Diori cries, clinging tightly to the demon hunter. Her screams fade to laughter as she watches Alisbeth back on the ground. “This is the coolest thing _ever!_”

Alisbeth watches them, completely helpless to stop Grimory. _He’s taking her away from you. Good._ Panic rises inside her and she takes off running, ignoring the clenching in her chest. She runs to the inn and up the stairs where Taveth stands, an impatient look on his face.

His eyebrows raise as he sees her. “What are you doing out here? I said eight! It’s _nine!_”

She shoves past him, ignoring his objections and questions, to unlock the door. She lets herself in and slams it, locking Taveth on the other side, where he continues to pound at the wood. The death knight grabs a pillow and shoves her face into it to scream two lungfuls of air into the padding. Alisbeth sits up and throws the pillow. Unsatisfied with the lack of crashing, she goes to her new giant collection of vases and tears into them—throwing some and breaking others against each other. After getting halfway through them, she turns her anger to the armoire. She grabs her axe and tears into it until nothing is left but sticks and splinters. She then makes quick work of the dresser, her gold spilling out onto the floor.

A bit of time later, Grimory returns to the inn, Diori wide-eyed and smiling in his arms. He sets her down gently and the two chuckle with one another.

“You didn’t tell me you could do that!” she says, punching him in the arm as they near the stairs.

“You didn’t ask,” the Illidari says with a smirk, holding her hand as they ascend the steps.

Taveth stomps down the stairs toward the two. “What in the _blazes_ is going on?”

Both elves look up at the man with wide eyes and fallen faces. “I couldn’t say _no_,” Grimory says abruptly, straightening as Diori hides behind his hip. “It’s my fault. Sorry.”

“And Alisbeth? What did you do to her?” Taveth demands. A vase shatters from within her room as though to emphasize his point.

Grimory flinches at the sound. “She…wanted to get Diori back at eight. I…took her for a fly instead.” He shrugs and smiles. “It wasn’t her fault.”

Taveth narrows his eyes. “Back at eight? You know, it was _nine_ when Ali came back.” Another vase shatters, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy and wooden being thrown across the room. Taveth shakes his head and purses his lips at the demon hunter. “If you can’t keep one simple promise, how can you hope to be trusted for big ones?” He takes Diori’s hand. “You can deal with whatever is going on in there. I have to get my sister to bed.”

Diori whines but follows without resistance. “Please don’t be mad at them! They just want me to be happy and have fun!”

Grimory grits his teeth, knowing he deserves being reprimanded. He gives Diori a fleeting look, mouthing _sorry_ before ascending the stairs to tap on Alisbeth’s door.

Alisbeth throws a vase at the door, but says nothing, assuming Taveth is still trying to get her attention.

“Ali,” Grimory says when he has a second of silence between crashes. “I’m sorry.”

Alisbeth drops the vase in her hand to the floor as she gasps. She runs to the door and rips it open, her eyes scanning around Grimory’s waist. “Where is she? _Where is she?_” She balls her hands into fists and pounds on his chest. “You took her from me! You took her away!” She spins away to slam the door and throw herself on the bed.

“She wanted to have fun!” Grimory yells through the door. “I’m _sorry_ I didn’t ask your permission first!” he growls. “And I didn’t take her away from you. I’m sure you’ll get to see her again.” _I hope._

“Don’t take her away! I changed my mind!” she wails, sobs pulling so hard in her chest that if she’d a need to breathe, she wouldn’t be able to catch her breath. “I changed…my…mind…” She presses her face into the comforter to catch her tears.

Grimory sighs, running a hand over his hair. “Ali, open the door,” he says over her weeping. “He won’t take her away.”

“It’s too late!” she shouts. “She’s already g-gone. You took her from me!”

Grimory opens the door himself to find it’s unlocked. _Oh. Well. I feel stupid._ “I took her for a ride. I wasn’t taking her away,” he says coolly, closing the door behind him.

“I changed my mind,” she mutters into the blanket, ignoring that he’s in the room with her.

Grimory sets himself beside her on the bed, placing a hand on her back. “Ali, stop. Calm down.”

Alisbeth leaps at Grimory, wrapping herself around him to cry into the crook of his shoulder. “I changed my mind. I remember.” She pulls him tighter. “I changed my mind.”

The Illidari nods. “I know you did. It’s okay.” He returns the embrace and pets her hair. “Everything is fine, yeah? Just calm down.”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye, Grim. And now she hates me for being so mean,” Alisbeth says.

Grimory chuckles quietly. “She doesn’t hate you, Ali. She’s fifty. She’s not capable of hate.”

Alisbeth frowns. “Don’t take her away from me, please.” She tilts her head to lean her cheek on his shoulder and stare at the side of his face. “I shouldn’t have let her go, huh?”

Grimory forces a smile and glances down at her from the corner of his eye. “Today or fifty years ago?”

“Fifty years ago.” She sniffs and wipes at her eye.

Grimory sobers. “What’s done is done. No use dwelling on it now.” He rubs her back reassuringly. “Plus, we have her now, yeah?”

Alisbeth frowns. “Sometimes I can’t help it. Is that okay?” _Pathetic._ She sneers and turns her head away from him. _You’ll never be a family, you know. He only wants you for one thing._ She skitters away from him to the head of the bed to sit and wipe her eyes. _It’s all you’re good for._ She squeezes her eyes shut and growls, then punches the side of her head. “Shut up.”

Grimory quickly leans forward to grab at her wrist. “Please stop hitting yourself. And yes, it’s okay to have regrets. But not to beat yourself up over them…literally.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what it is.” Alisbeth wipes her nose on her sleeve, then smiles wide at the demon hunter. “Today was fun, wasn’t it?”

Grimory gives a weak smile and nods. “Yeah. It was.”

Alisbeth frowns at his disposition toward her. She looks around her destroyed room and sighs, then pushes under the comforter, pulling it over her head. “I suppose you need to sleep now. Goodnight.”

Grimory furrows his brow but grins anyway. “You sure it’s not you who’s going to sleep?” He pokes her form through the blanket.

Alisbeth peeks over the blanket at him, then turns over to curl against him. “Did you have fun today?”

The Illidari nods. “Yeah, actually. Did you?” He looks around. “Besides the meltdown?”

“Mm-hmm. You didn’t seem too thrilled a minute ago. I was just making sure.” She presses her nose into his sternum.

“Me?” Grimory laughs. “I wasn’t the one destroying my room just a moment ago. You okay, now?”

She frowns and snuggles in closer. “I made a mess.”

“You did.” Grimory sighs and sets a hand on her hip, looking out the balcony door window. “We’ll worry about it later.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “You did a good job today.”

Alisbeth traces his tattoo that covers his chest. “What do you mean?”

“With not running away when you’re scared or uncomfortable. I could see you were really trying.”

“You asked me not to run away. And I didn’t want to let either of you down…again.”

“You…didn’t let us down. Well. You didn’t let _me_ down. I can’t speak for her.” Grimory shrugs. “You were probably right for doing what you did.”

Alisbeth reaches up to scratch at his goatee. “Sometimes I think it was a good idea. Other times I don’t.”

He hums and closes his eyes. “Can’t say I don’t feel the same.” Taveth’s angry face crosses his mind and he opens them again, the corner of his mouth tightening. “I’ll see if I can’t talk with Taveth. Without threatening him.”

Alisbeth threads her fingers together behind the demon hunter’s neck. “You have to apologize for taking off with her. I have to apologize for staying out so late. We can talk to him together.” Alisbeth’s eyes brighten and she smiles wide. “If we get to see her tomorrow, what do you want to do?”

Grimory ponders the question for a moment and shrugs. “I don’t think he’ll trust us with letting her leave the city, so that trip to Silvermoon is probably out of the question. Perhaps just a walk around the shopping district.”

Alisbeth purses her lips to think. “What if we invited Taveth. I doubt he’s been to Silvermoon. Sure, they’re outsiders, but…from what I’ve heard, that part of the city hasn’t been rebuilt. We could sneak right in.” She flashes him a devilish grin.

Grimory gives an airy laugh. “He can’t yell at us if he’s trespassing, too. I like your thinking.” He brushes a strand of white hair from her face. “We’ll ask tomorrow if we can catch him.”

“I didn’t become a captain by being stupid.” Alisbeth giggles, then sets a light kiss on his nose.

Grimory smiles down at her. “Oh?” he teases. “Are you certain? I thought that was a requirement to become a captain. Being stupid.”

She cocks an eyebrow and gives him a faux look of indignation. “Those are fighting words, good sir. I demand you take them back.”

Grimory sticks his nose in the air and scoffs. “If you think I’m going to be intimidated by a mere _woman_ you’ve got another thing coming.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes at him. “Is that a challenge? That’s sounds like a challenge.” Her hand shoots out from the blanket to grab his horn and pull his face even closer to her own. “Are you challenging me?”

The Illidari does his best to not let the pain show. He grins again. “To what, I don’t know. But yes, yes I am.”

Alisbeth shifts a little, then grunts. She shifts again and whines. “My arm is stuck in the blanket.” She wiggles, trying to free the arm trapped beneath her. “When I get free, you’re gonna get it.”

Grimory laughs, not budging from the blanket so that she cannot free herself. “It looks like I win by default.”

“Like spit you do! I have other means.” She pulls him closer again and bites the side of his jaw. “Don’ ‘ake ‘e ‘ake a ‘hunk out.”

Grimory hisses in pain, then reaches up to grab both her long ears in a fist. “Do it and they come off,” he says with a smirk.

“_Nnnn,_” she hums. “I loze ih ‘en oo talk di’ty.” She bites down a little harder.

Grimory winces and pulls on her ears with as much force as she’s biting. “You really want to play this game of mutually assured destruction?”

Alisbeth releases his jaw and nuzzles into the crook of his neck as best she can with him pulling on her ears. “I’m bored with that. I don’t want to hurt you right now.”

Grimory lets go of her ears, allowing her closer. “Oh yeah? What do you want to do to me, then?”

Alisbeth runs the tip of her nose up his neck, across his jaw, then rests it beside his so her lips are a mere whisper away from his own. “Remember that thing that got interrupted this morning?”

The demon hunter glances away as he thinks. “Hm. Not so sure I remember. Perhaps you can jog my memory.”

She delicately sets her lips to his. She pulls away and meets his gaze. “Remember now?”

Grimory smiles. “It’s coming back to me.” He closes the space between their lips again, pulling her torso against himself.


	12. Chapter 12

Visions of a life that could have been flow through Anarchaia’s mind like a flipbook. Her smile subsides and she turns her head to look at the setting sun beyond the floating islets. “I wonder if my house is still standing.”

“Would you like to go see?” he asks.

Anarchaia furrows her brow, having expected him to ask, but not having an answer prepared. “I…I don’t know. I haven’t been there in a long time.”

“Are you afraid of what you might find?”

Anarchaia pauses then nods. “I used to go every year, but stopped after around eight. I just…see no good reason anymore.”

Koltira purses his lips. “I haven’t been to Silvermoon since I died. I’ve thought about going. Seeing the place where I died.” He absently runs his fingers up and down the glove of her hand, pushing up her sleeve to her elbow to feel along her arm.

“I’ve never been to Silvermoon.” She says, closing her eyes at his caresses. “Would you like to go? I’ll accompany you.”

He shrugs. “Perhaps.”

A frown creeps across her lips and she swallows. “Never mind, then. Dumb idea. Heh.”

“About as dumb as wanting to see your family home.” He pokes her in the side, hoping she catches the hint.

Anarchaia flinches at the finger, then purses her lips at him. “Fair point.” She sighs, then smiles. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours? We can make a vacation of it. A macabre one, but a vacation nonetheless.”

“Hey, any vacation is a good vacation.” He wraps one arm around her in a reassuring hug.

Anarchaia smiles and sits up, turning back to look at him. “Wanna go now? Not like we need supplies or anything.”

He smiles at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, why not? How close can you get us?”

“It’s across the ocean, so it’ll be a bit draining for me to teleport us. But I can take us to my back yard as I’m sure that hasn’t changed. Then Lordaeron…”

“We could hire another mage to send us all the way to Silvermoon,” he suggests.

“I’m sure Master wouldn’t mind doing so.”

Koltira stands and holds out a hand to help her up. “I suppose that’ll do.” He gives her a wry smile.

Anarchaia takes the assistance and stands. The blanket disappears beneath them, as well as the wine and cups. She leads him from the area, then gasps. “I forgot that there’re portals near the center of town. I think there’s one to Silvermoon.”

“You know, I think you’re right,” Koltira says. “So, where to first?”

Anarchaia smiles over at him. “I made the last choice.”

Koltira reaches in his belt and pulls out a coin. “Heads: Silvermoon. Tails: Duskwood.” He flips the coin and catches it, then sets it on the back of his palm. “Tails.”

Anarchaia deflates some, having hoped to not go first. “I can take us to Medivh’s Tower. It’s still a conduit for arcane energy. It’d be easier than teleporting to Duskwood and is just a day’s walk.”

“Oh, you mean I have to spend more time with you? Such a shame.” He gives her a charming smile.

Anarchaia laughs and holds out her hands. “Honestly I don’t know how you stand my presence at all.”

Koltira shakes his head. “Stop, Ana. You know already that I enjoy your company. So, you’re stuck with me.”

Anarchaia shrugs. “Or the other way around. Don’t let go.” The two disappear in a flash of light. When they reappear, they stand beneath the sky-piercing once-ivory tower of Karazhan, the clouds thick with rain and a chill in the air.

Koltira smiles. “This is beautiful. I’ve never actually been here before. Karazhan, right?”

Anarchaia nods. “The site of Medivh’s fall. Has since stood as a monument to the event.” She trots on down the path, not looking up at the spires.

Koltira follows, his eyes taking in the sight, scanning every inch.

A wind blows through the towers above, making a sound that bids the mage to walk faster. “I hate this place,” she mutters, pulling her hood up. A rumble of thunder sounds in the distance.

Koltira trots to her side and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Then let’s get out of here sooner, rather than later.”

Anarchaia nods and brings her arms up to hug herself. “The weather here is always like this, now. It’s like it feels the same way I do.” The two continue down the road lined with decrepit trees and spiderweb-laden grass.

Koltira shrugs. “It’s like Acherus, but more cheerful. Rather scenic, too.”

Anarchaia gives a halfhearted grin. “I guess I’m forced to agree.” She chuckles. “Anyplace without Mograine seems better by comparison.”

He chuckles and nods. “He’s a real ballbuster sometimes.”

Anarchaia smiles. “Though, I think I’d rather deal with Mograine than Meryl. At least Mograine seems a reasonable man…mostly.”

“Meryl is a sadist. You should’ve seen him. He was terrorizing Ali the whole time you were asleep. She didn’t relax for even a second with him in the room. One minute she was screaming and trying to kill him, the next she was hiding under the bed, terrified.” He sighs through his nose and kicks a stone. “At least Mograine had the decency to keep her where she couldn’t see forsaken. I mean, he could have lit the room, sure. But he didn’t torture her.”

Anarchaia shrugs. “I yelled at him when I arrived. I’m sure it made no difference, though. He likes to have control. It’s the warlock in him, I’m sure.” She crinkles her nose. “He’s a good teacher, though.”

“It’s unfortunate that the good teachers are usually assholes.”

“I must have gotten lucky, then,” she responds with a smile.

Koltira returns the smile and absently weaves his fingers through hers, squeezing ever so slightly. The two wander until the dark ashen trail begins to stutter with weeds and grass. Birds begin to dully chirp as oppose to falcons crying. The fog and canopy above thicken.

Koltira’s eyes sweep through the gloom across the trees and the hanging moss. “This area sure is…cheery.” He does his best not to make a face.

Anarchaia chuckles. “Isn’t it? I attribute the weather here to how often my parents argued. It was also convenient for my…condition.”

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “Oh, no. No, no, Miss Starling. You elaborate right now before I punish you swiftly and severely.” He grabs her around the waist, dragging her to his side as he narrows his eyes down at her.

Anarchaia shrinks into his arm but smiles and chortles. “About my parents or about my albinism?” she laughs. “No, the sun is—_was_—bad for my skin. Gave me nasty burns. I had to work at night, despite it always being rather dreary here. Which is why I chose the tavern.”

Koltira blinks. “I don’t think you ever told me you were an albino…I just thought it had to do with your _current_ condition.”

Anarchaia blinks in return. “Oh. I thought it was obvious. Apparently not. Heh. Yeah, my one eye is the same one I had when I was alive.” She points at it beneath her mask. “My skin was obviously whiter, though.”

Koltira shrugs and smiles down at her. “I never really thought about it. Just thought it was something else to make you beautiful. Now I _really_ wish I’d known you in life. I’ve never actually seen an albino, you know. Always wanted to, but they’re so rare.” He pulls her even closer as though somehow she’s become more precious.

“There’s actually one born in every twenty-five thousand or so,” the mage responds with a smile, threading her arm beneath his to wrap around his waist. “I’m told my prowess in the school of fire is because of it. I don’t hold superstitions though.”

“Neither do I. Why attribute skill to something outside of your control? It’s completely demeaning to your abilities. I think jealousy fueled those rumors.” He leans over to kiss the top of her hood.

Anarchaia laughs lightly. “I agree. Superstition is the poor man’s religion.”

“I’m glad you agree,” he says with a chuckle.

She hums in contentment. A weary old man and equally weary mule with a wagon and a lantern saunter by, nodding as they pass.

“I gotta say, I don’t miss this place, though.”

Koltira looks around. “I would’ve left as soon as I was able. It’s too…dreary.”

Anarchaia laughs again. “You really get used to it. It’s better than sunburns and blindness. Heh.”

Koltira quirks his mouth to one side. “It can be dark without being gloomy. This is…choking. Maybe after Silvermoon, I’ll show you where I spent the better part of two decades, hmm? Though, without flying there it’ll take the whole week to get to.”

Anarchaia nods and leans her cheek onto his shoulder. “I’d like that. The walk doesn’t bother me. The more time with you, the better.”

Koltira makes a face. “Long walks have never been something I liked. Running short distances, climbing trees… Those, I could do all day. But just walking? Sure, in Stormheim we had a purpose, but it didn’t make it any easier.”

Anarchaia gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’m not a good travel partner. What with refusing to ride…”

“Hush you.” Koltira pulls at her in spurts to wiggle her against his side. “So, how far into Duskwood did you live?”

“About the heart of it,” the mage responds. “We’re about a half a day’s walk. Heh.”

Koltira makes another face. “I suppose I can suffer through that, since you’re willing to suffer through longer.”

She shrugs. “You’re the only one suffering here, then. Perhaps I’ll make it up to you.”

A noise straying from the usual crickets and frog croaks rustles through the brush but the mage pays it no mind.

Koltira hums low in his throat. “Elaborate on this ‘making it up to me’ thing.”

Anarchaia hums, bringing a finger to just below her lower lip in thought. “I could…bake you a cake. Carve you a decorative candle.” She grins wide beneath her mask. “Polish your blade.”

“Hmm. Cake could work, but I wouldn’t really taste it unless you made it _really_ strong.” He smirks. “Tell me more about polishing my blade, though.”

Anarchaia shrugs a shoulder. “Well I fancy myself a skilled sword polisher. I don’t charge much, either. Nothing at all, in fact.” She laughs dryly. “That came out wrong.”

Koltira deflates. “I really was hoping that was a euphemism.” He winks down at her.

Anarchaia tilts her head in defeat, laughing embarrassedly. “It was, but then I made myself sound like a harlot.”

He laughs. “And in that dress… You’re the Scarlet Harlot, aren’t you? Here to play tricks on me with your seductive wiles.” He leans down, lifting her mask so he can kiss her.

Anarchaia hums a laugh against his lips. “It seems you’ve caught on to my devious plot. Guess you’ll have none of me anymore now that you know.”

“That’s right, vile temptress. Relinquish your hold on me!” Koltira laughs.

Anarchaia wraps her arms about his neck, standing on her toes. “Oh, but it won’t be that easy.”

Another rustle runs through the foliage, but its sound is lost on the breeze.

He smiles and kisses her again. “I always liked a challenge.”

Anarchaia runs her tongue along her lower lip and leans up for another kiss.

“Well,” a growling voice rumbles through the fog. A large worgen man steps out on the path accompanied by two others and a masked figure in tight leather armor. “Normally people find an inn for that business,” the silver-furred half-beast muses.

“We don’t,” the tawny one snorts, fangs poking through his lips.

Koltira pulls Anarchaia away to protect her, one hand reaching over his shoulder before he realizes that he is weaponless. Instead, he decides to go for tact. “Gentlemen, I’m sure there is no reason to detain us. We’ll mind our behavior on the road from now on, and you can go about your business.”

The lead worgen chuckles and shakes his head. “Oh, we aren’t concerned with what you two do when you think others aren’t looking.” He unsheathes a short sword from his belt.

“We want what’s in that belt of yours,” comes a shaky, hissing voice behind them—an undead with glowing gold eyes.

Anarchaia recoils, scowling. “How did you…?”

“We come across many forms and means of carrying gold,” says the masked figure, making clear she’s a woman.

Koltira straightens his shoulders. “No. Now leave before we make you regret stopping us.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow at Koltira’s words. _Oh gods, he wants me to fight. Quick! Just give them the gold._ “Uh, actually!” she stammers, reaching into her belt. “I _personally_ don’t want any trouble…”

“Ana,” Koltira hisses.

Anarchaia tilts her head toward him. <<You’re unarmed and I don’t want to kill people. Do you suggest something better?>> she whispers in Thalassian.

<<_Fine._>> Koltira hisses.

“The small one says the death knight is unarmed and that she doesn’t want to hurt us,” the woman says in a matter-of-fact tone and the group laughs.

Anarchaia stops then retracts her hand from her belt and curses as the five close in on them.

“Well she’s right about one thing,” the forsaken says, pulling out two daggers. “She won’t hurt us.”

“Ana,” Koltira says, a hand on her waist, “I won’t think any less of you if you do that thing you did to Fenrir.” He backs away from the group—pulling Anarchaia with him—as he mentally prepares for a fight, which he knows he won’t win unless he takes one of their weapons.

Anarchaia fidgets. “I don’t _like_ what I did to Fenrir.” She swallows as the moonlight glints across the short sword in front of her, then pushes up her sleeves. Fire ignites in her palms and she straightens. “I’ll give you a chance to walk away,” she says in a commanding tone.

The group chuckles again. “A little fire doesn’t scare—”

The forsaken man behind the two bursts into flames. Over his cries of pain, the others glance at one another before lunging forward to avenge their fallen comrade.

Koltira intercepts the worgen, trying to tackle him but failing due to the man’s size. The death knight grabs the beast’s hand gripping the short sword, trying to wrestle it from him.

The worgen growls a laugh at the elf’s attempt at disarming him but struggles against him all the same. A force separates the two with enough push to hurl both men to the dirt.

Anarchaia takes the opportunity to throw up a barrier of arcane energy around herself and Koltira. “Come any closer and you’ll get what he got.” She jerks her chin in the direction of the slowly dying forsaken.

The two worgen not on the ground make an effort to beat at the shield with daggers.

The mage grits her teeth. “Fine, then.”

Koltira scrambles to stand behind Anarchaia. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it.” He purses his lips, hating how useless he feels without his sword.

Anarchaia furrows her brow in turmoil and bites her lip. She takes in a deep breath. The shield around them becomes shrouded in flames that burst outward, encasing their assailants. The group howls and claws at their burning flesh, dropping their weapons and scrambling away.

“I’m sorry,” the mage whispers, closing her eyes as she maintains the shell in case one remains strong enough to attack.

Koltira reaches for Anarchaia’s hand to comfort her, but stops, unsure if he can reach through the shields. “Ana, it’s okay.”

The barrier dissipates after a moment and Anarchaia grabs Koltira by his outstretched hand. She pulls him down the path at a quick pace, saying nothing.

Koltira squeezes her hand as a temporary sort of hug. He looks over at her as they flee the scene, wishing he could see her expression. “Are you okay?” he finally asks.

“I’ll be fine,” the mage murmurs then purses her lips as though not having meant to respond. She says nothing until the light of the fires behind them have disappeared into the distance.

Koltira stays quiet, just holding her hand as they speed through the woods. When the silence and gloom presses back in on them he pulls her to a stop and wraps her in his comforting embrace. “It’s okay.”

Anarchaia stops. After a moment she pushes her forehead into his cuirass, arms at her sides, shoulders shaking as she holds back her sobs. “I hate it,” she chokes. “I hate killing. I hate the sounds. I hate that there are people who make me do it.”

Koltira frowns, unsure what he can say to make her feel better—if he even can. Finally, he says, “It doesn’t make _you_ any less of a good person.”

Anarchaia nods, still holding back tears. She pulls her head away and sighs, reaching for his hand. “At least _you_ think so.” She swallows and pulls him back toward the direction of her home.

Koltira follows where she leads, making sure to keep her hand firmly in his. Thousands of things he wants to say zip through his mind, but he says none of them, knowing Anarchaia will still think she’s a bad person. After a long while the two come to a labeled fork in the road. The mage pulls him toward the left and glances around at the familiar shrubbery and houses of her distant neighbors.

“Not much farther,” she mumbles.

Koltira sighs and squeezes her hand. “Ana, talk to me. How can I help?”

Anarchaia shakes her head, their pace slowing some. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. I’m…just a big baby.”

“Stop holding it in. Vent a little. React. Do _something_ besides letting it eat at you.” He pulls her to a stop, turning her to look at him. “Don’t hold it in. It just makes it worse.”

Anarchaia shakes her head and purses her lips. “Master says complaining about things out of your control is like yelling at a mountain for existing. Useless and gets nothing done. Best just to let the mountain be.”

“And I say that if you need to scream, you should scream.”

Anarchaia smiles faintly and sighs. “Screaming won’t rid the world of horrid people…or make it easier to roast them alive.” She glances down at their hands. “But thanks.”

He shrugs. “No, but it can help to lift the weight off your own heart.”

Anarchaia sighs and tilts her head again as though the weight of it is too much. “I’m not a screamer. Never have been. Sorry.”

He smirks like a devil. “Not in my experience.”

She purses her lips at him. “Kolt,” she warns.

He sighs. “Okay. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The mage turns to give a reassuring smile then leans up to kiss his cold cheek. “You’re sweet. C’mon. We’re almost there.”

“Alright. Let’s see this place.” He takes her hand and lets her guide him.

The two travel for a few more long, cricket-filled hours—stopping every now and again to view an abandoned barn or particularly gnarled tree—until finally coming upon a two-story home surrounded by a worn wooden fence. The greenery has taken over the outside walls, creeping up the boards and into the windows. The yard is overgrown and filled with wildflowers and glowflies.

“I guess no one wanted it. The location isn’t great. Heh.”

Koltira takes in the sight. “I bet it was beautiful in its prime.”

Anarchaia gives a somber smile and steps through the unkempt grass to the door. “I can’t say. It was just _home_, you know?” She pushes open the door and ignites a palm of fire to light the foyer. A thick layer of dust covers the paintings lining the walls and banister. A mouse runs by. “Definitely worse than last I left it, though. Shouldn’t have stopped coming.”

“A little elbow grease, right?” He gives a soft chuckle that seems to be swallowed by the dust and the aged wood of the house.

“I don’t think it’d be worth it,” Anarchaia laughs in return. She steps from the foyer into the large living space complete with a piano, a couple book shelves, and a sofa. She picks up a now-hard, unfolded quilt. “This was mother’s. She’d lay under it every night while she knit.” She releases it from her hand and the impact of it landing kicks up a cloud of dust. “Sorry. Heh.”

Koltira smirks. “Not like I’ll breathe it in.” He takes in everything, trying to imagine what it was like when it wasn’t abandoned. He smiles softly, realizing that maybe this is the house Anarchaia had meant when she told him what she wanted if she was still alive. “It’s peaceful here. I’m sure it was a wonderful place to live.”

Anarchaia shrugs and pulls a book off the shelf. “Save for the wandering packs of bandits.” She replaces the book and kicks at a piece of grass growing through the floorboards. She makes her way to the stairs. “Wanna see my room?”

“Is it as grand as your room in the Hall?” Koltira chuckles.

“Grander,” Anarchaia says with a smile, taking herself and the small fire in her hand up the stairs. She pushes the first door on the left and it swings open with a slow _creeeaak_. Nothing sits inside but a bookshelf, a four-poster bed with no canopy, a nightstand, a writing desk with books, a sewing machine, and a window covered by a thick quilt. “My favorite place,” she says, voice thick with sarcasm.

“Oh, yes, I especially like the…um…” Koltira looks around the room for something, “books, I suppose.”

Anarchaia hums a laugh and steps over to the desk. A half-sewn sweater is hanging from the pedal-powered machine. Her smile fades some as she remembers the night before her death, sitting at this very desk. She sighs and presses the pedal with her foot. The needle does not move. “Must be rusted.”

Koltira gives a faint chuckle. “Damned rust. Though, if it weren’t for a rusted door, I’m not sure we’d have spoken that night…would we have?”

Anarchaia glances up at him, touched by the fact that he held onto that memory while simultaneously flooded with nostalgia. She nods and smiles again. “That’s right. An act of nature brought us together.” She crosses the room back to the door, grabbing his hand gently. “Let’s see if the garden’s survived, hmm?”

“I doubt anything edible grows there, without tending. But sure.” He smiles down at her. “You’re fond of gardens, aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that? And we don—_didn’t_ grow vegetables.” She lingers for a moment, his hand in hers, then pulls him back toward the stairs.

Koltira’s eyebrows raise with interest. “A flower garden? You _did_ have roses, right?”

Anarchaia nods. “Of course. But mostly—” She pauses as they near the back door, her smile wavering. “But mostly magnolias.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow at the stumble of her words. “Something wrong with magnolias?”

Anarchaia stops at the door and turns to him, forcing a smile. “Mother is under the magnolias.” The door swings open without her touch. “As I’ve said, you’d think I’d be over it…heh.”

Koltira pauses before following her outside. He frowns, unable to look at the garden as his gaze fixes on the mage. “No one said you had to be over it. I don’t mind.”

Anarchaia shakes her head. “I _want_ to be over it. I—” She stops at the edge of the garden. Flowers bloom all around, but most are weeds. “They’ve died,” she says poignantly, staring into the heart of the thicket. Her fingers curl into her palms. “I shouldn’t have stopped coming.”

Koltira sets a tentative hand between her shoulder blades. “I’ll…help you replant them…if you like?”

She looks up at him, then smiles at the thought of him on his hands and knees in the dirt, gardening gloves and boots. She shakes her head. “No. It’s okay. I can do it myself.” The garden bursts into flames. “I’ll come back and plant more.”

He purses his lips. “You don’t want me to help? I mean… I know a thing or two…”

The weeds and foliage quickly diminish to a bed of dark ash. “Oh? A thing—or _two??_” She grins playfully. “Like what, mister death knight?”

Koltira straightens as though insulted. “You judge my abilities? I’ll have you know, I am a fantastic herb gatherer. I had a rather…_rude_ captain that forced me into it. I deserved worse, but it was about the humiliation, not the punishment.” He thinks a moment. “My family had a small garden. I helped sometimes. If anything else, I’m good at taking orders.”

The mage lifts her eyebrows and chuckles. “I believe you, Kolt. I just don’t have anything handy at the moment. Once I procure some seeds you can come back with me and we’ll make an evening of it.” She gives a fleeting glance at the large rock marking her mother’s resting place and sighs. “All right. That’s enough sightseeing I think.”

Koltira takes Anarchaia into a small hug. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

The undead nods and returns the embrace. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re returning the favor.” She hums a laugh and glances at the cellar doors behind him. “Silvermoon isn’t…_too_ far. Though I’m sure it’ll be easier to return to Karazhan and return to Dalaran, then use the portal there.”

“Ah, yes, good. I’d like to stop and get Byfrost. Next time, _you_ won’t have to deal with the bandits.” He pauses to think. “Wait, back to Karazhan? You can’t just…get us straight to Dalaran?”

The mage fidgets and laughs nervously. “I _could_…if you don’t mind waiting a couple days before going to Silvermoon.”

Koltira purses his lips. “I… How out of commission would you be? I’d rather not deal with Khadgar sweeping in because you’re unconscious.”

Anarchaia gives another hesitant chuckle followed by a nasally _ehhhh_. “I’m not good with long distance teleports yet.”

Koltira lets out a long breath through his nose. “Would hopping to Karazhan, then to Dalaran be too much?” He takes one of her hands in both of his. “I don’t want you to strain yourself. Though…Silvermoon _is_ more beautiful during the day.” A charming smile parts his lips. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Anarchaia narrows her eyes at him, brow furrowed. “Koltira, that’s genius.” She takes either of his hands and smiles, giving one last glace at the cellar doors beside the house. “Don’t let go.” The two teleport back to the base of Karazhan. Anarchaia takes a moment to shiver up at the tower and collect herself before grabbing him again. When the two reappear, they’re standing inside the Violet Citadel’s base floor. “Huh,” she says, “this isn’t where I—”

“Archmage Khadgar gave instructions to intercept you should you teleport back to the city,” the guard beside the stairs drones. “He wishes audience.”

Anarchaia scowls and releases Koltira. “I suppose I’ll return. Not sure how long this will take. Perhaps go grab your things and I’ll come find you?”

With a sigh, Koltira nods. “I guess you don’t have a choice. I’ll meet you at the Legerdemain Lounge, then.” He backs away slowly, keeping his eyes on her a moment longer.

The mage gives a nod and a reassuring smile and disappears in a swirl of light and sparkles.

Koltira ambles to the inn alone, not in any particular rush. He trots up the stairs and throws open the door. Just like when he’d opened the door that morning, he stops in shock, as though splashed with cold water.

“_OH FOR GODS’ SAKES!_” Grimory quickly rolls off Alisbeth to grab the quilt and cover them both. “Why don’t you knock?!”

Koltira blinks at them. “Maybe if you’d _lock_ the _door_, I wouldn’t keep _walking in on you!_”

Alisbeth curls her fingers into her hair and scrunches her eyes closed. “What do you want?”

“Byfrost.”

She growls. “In the corner. Take it and don’t come back.”

“This isn’t your room! You should knock anyway!” the demon hunter barks.

Koltira stomps to the corner, raising an eyebrow at the destroyed furniture and her axe stuck into the end of the bed. He grabs Byfrost and heads for the door again. “Lock it anyway.” He slams the door behind him and stands, fuming for a minute. _This is why you separated. Just forget about it._

“Knock!” Grimory yells one last time before the door closes. He turns back to Alisbeth and scoffs. “Rude.”

Koltira trudges down the stairs and orders himself a stiff drink, then takes a seat to wait for Anarchaia.

Alisbeth purses her lips at the demon hunter. “He does have a point about locking it, though.”

Grimory tilts his head back and sighs to the ceiling. “I guess.” He gets up and crosses the room to flip the latch.

Alisbeth laughs and bites her bottom lip as she stares at Grimory. “So…where were we?”


	13. Chapter 13

Sometime later, as the sun is rising, Anarchaia saunters into the lounge. She takes a seat at Koltira’s table and smiles. “I’m back.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink. “That…took a while. Anything dire I should know about?”

Anarchaia shifts her lips to the right and shakes her head after a moment’s thought. “No. Everything’s fine. Ready to get going?”

He downs his drink in one go. “I’ve been ready for hours.” He stands, then stops. “Knock before going into Ali’s room, by the way.”

The mage bites her lip, raises her brows, and chuckles. “You interrupted something, I take it?” She stands. “Not sure why they don’t lock the door.”

“It could be any reason, with those two.” He rubs his palms down his face as they head for the portal to Silvermoon. “I know it’s not my problem anymore, but…” He sighs. “It _bothers_ me. But I’m also just…relieved that she’s distracted. I really don’t understand how he keeps her in check so well.”

Anarchaia swallows her jealousy and smiles, shrugging. “Perhaps their personalities just mesh well.” She tilts her head. “You seem to miss her. Why not go back?”

Koltira thinks on it. “I don’t think it’s _her_ that I miss. It was…something familiar. Our relationship… If I hadn’t met you I think we’d still be together, but only because it’s what we knew. It was something constant, almost comforting…that I had her. Even though I don’t particularly _like_ her now. She changed. I changed.” He smiles down at the mage. “I just needed someone to give me the courage to let go.”

The jealousy she’d swallowed churns into guilt in her stomach. “I’d hoped you’d left her because you weren’t happy. Not because of…me.” She frowns and turns to look ahead.

He takes her hand. “Ana, I wasn’t happy. I just…couldn’t leave.”

The mage smiles and inhales. After a moment she exhales and shakes her head. “I believe you.” They stop before the portal in the alcove within Windrunner’s Sanctuary. “After you.”

Koltira smiles. “I wasn’t trying to convince you, only tell you the truth.” He goes through the portal and moves to the side to wait for Anarchaia’s appearance.

She emerges through the portal and instantly cranes her neck to look around the room she’s entered. Red silk curtains line the doorway and walls. Plush decorative pillows lie on a lavish carpet and knickknacks sit on shelves.

“Is this…some kind of solar?” she says, gesturing to a stick of burning incense.

Koltira cocks his eyebrow at two mages by the door. One continuously polymorphs the other, as the latter yells for them to stop.

“I…have no idea. I’ve actually never been in this room before. Shall we?” He takes her by the hand and urges her out the door, not entirely keen on staying.

Anarchaia giggles at the two as they pass, yearning to get involved in their feud. “I like this place already,” she muses with a smile as they step out onto a long, red carpet leading outdoors.

As they descend the ramp, Koltira eyes the wall to the left. “Hmm.”

He leads Anarchaia through Murder Row, keeping watch on the warlocks and rogues milling about in doorways or playing cards on the sidewalk. The mage waves cheerily at the delinquents as they pass. They sneer at her but otherwise pay no mind.

In The Bazaar, Koltira stops again. “Hmm.” He turns in a circle as though lost.

She looks up at her companion as he glances about. “Need directions?” she says with a smile.

Koltira purses his lips and points across the area to a vine-covered wooden wall set into the stone. “That used to be a doorway. They must have sealed it. We may have to find another way there.”

“We could make a doorway,” Anarchaia responds, holding up a hand, her grin widening playfully.

Koltira narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You’re not planning on lighting it on fire, are you?”

“_Wood_ we get in trouble?” she asks, biting her lip as she smiles.

Koltira purses his lips to keep back a laugh. “I’m pretty sure we would. I’m sure the guards would _bark_ at us.”

Anarchaia laughs. “Perhaps going around is an option.”

“Maybe they haven’t fixed the front gates, either. Worth a try.” He takes Anarchaia’s hand and leads her to the front of the city, taking his time as he lets the mage take in the splendor of his home. He smiles to himself, realizing how much he’d missed the city.

Anarchaia beams as she cranes her neck to see all the expertly crafted pillars, vendors selling fabrics of the highest quality, and trees along the buildings that seem to glow in the sunlight. “Elves have it so good…”

The death knight chuckles and moves out of the way of an enchanted broom working its way down the street. “It is a beautiful city. I’m sure no one would mind you getting your own place here, if you wanted. A home away from home.”

Anarchaia reaches out to touch the broom as it passes, then sobers. “Unless I’m a student for the rest of my unlife.”

“Don’t you get vacations?” he asks.

Anarchaia shakes her head. “I went to Pandaria for two years but…that was more of a field trip than a vacation. And that was only because Master was needed in Draenor. I have more free time these days because he’s so busy. But…I should really be studying regardless.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry I’m keeping you from your studies. Speaking of…what did Khadgar want?”

“To tell me to stop leaving the city without telling him.” She sighs and smiles at a guard as they pass. “I told him we’d be coming here today, though.”

Koltira smirks. “Sure took a long time for him to tell you that.”

Anarchaia hesitates. “You were mentioned, obviously. Nothing negative…mostly.”

Koltira stops and frowns at her. “You can’t expect me to be okay with such scant details.”

“He doesn’t like how much time I spend with you,” she admits. “He has nothing against you personally, though.”

Koltira’s eyebrows drop to a slight scowl as he continues walking. “Oh. Gods forbid you have _friends_.” He shakes his head. “I don’t understand it. I really don’t.”

Anarchaia bites her lip again. “He doesn’t mind my having friends. He says that with his being so busy, I need to study extra hard.”

Koltira makes a face. “Sounds like a load of shit to me. But who am I to say that it’s not the absolute truth.”

Anarchaia’s frown deepens, not enjoying the tension. “Are you jealous?” she asks with a careful tone.

Koltira forces a light chuckle. “I’m not jealous, Ana. I just…I don’t think he’s telling us the whole story. And that’s not fair to you.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow upward. “I’m sure he has a good reason for doing so…if that _is_ the case.”

Koltira shrugs. “I’m sure if it was something important, he’d actually tell you.” He leads Anarchaia out through the front gate to a walkway blossoming with all sorts of flowers in long planters and floating jars.

“I don’t know,” the mage says as she reaches to touch one of the flowers, though she’s unable to feel the delicate petals. “He’s never lied to me.”

The death knight plucks out a flower and holds it out for Anarchaia. “Some don’t consider omission to be lying.” He gestures with a tilt of his head. “Come. The main gate is this way. Was.”

Anarchaia takes the flower and smiles, bringing it to her lips as if smelling it. She follows close behind. “So, surprises are lies?”

“You didn’t even ask if I believe omissions to be lies, first.” He smirks down at her. “I think it’s the intent. A surprise doesn’t harm. Lying by omission does. For example, are you being honest about the extent of our relationship with Khadgar? Or are you lying by omission? Or is it a surprise?” He crosses into the grass along the path to scratch under the chin of a wandering dragonhawk. It trills in surprise, then flits away in a slight panic.

Anarchaia watches the animal flutter away and swallows. “_Do_ you consider withholding information the same as lying?”

Koltira shrugs as they continue on. “I just told you, I think it’s the intent. Is the omission harmful if it’s made known? Or is it something that will please someone when it’s revealed? Harmful omissions are lies, yes.”

Anarchaia shoos a dragonfly away when it lands on her robes. “What if the intent is not to hurt someone’s feelings? Or perhaps the information is irrelevant?”

He thinks on it. “If the intent of keeping the secret is to avoid causing harm, then it is still a lie by omission. If the information is irrelevant, then it really doesn’t matter either way.”

_Then it’s irrelevant_, the mage thinks.

Koltira stops on the road and stares down at the dead ground that cuts through the path from as far left as he can see, right up through Silvermoon. Undead creatures still wander within it. He lets out a heavy sigh and ushers Anarchaia off the path and into the grass. They make their way to the broken gate, where nothing but rubble remains in the destroyed gap.

“Well, I was right about them not sealing it up.”

Anarchaia looks around at the rubble and the dead, tainted soil. It sends a shiver up her spine. “So, this is the work of the Scourge?”

“Yes,” he says simply.

As they approach the rubble, a blood elf runs to them.

“Hey! You can’t go in there! It’s not safe.”

Koltira turns, cocking an eyebrow at the woman. “Jaela?”

She eyes him. “Deathweaver?”

He laughs. “You survived!” He hugs her briefly.

“As did you…” She looks him over again.

“In a sense, I suppose.” He steps to the mage and sets a hand at her back. “This is my friend, Anarchaia. Ana, this is Jaela.”

Anarchaia inwardly flinches at the word _friend_ but lifts her mask to show a crooked smile. She waves. “It’s a pleasure, Jaela.”

Koltira clasps his hands together. “So, we just want to go into the ruins. Visit the… Well…”

Jaela smiles and holds out a hand to Anarchaia.

The mage grasps Jaela’s hand and gives it a firm shake. “I’m a student of Dalaran. Seeing the damage done to the city would be a great advancement in my studies.”

Jaela forces a smile. “Ehh…”

“Jaela, please?”

“I’m not supposed to.”

Koltira smiles slyly. “But maybe you were just so busy keeping the undead out that you didn’t see two people climb over the rubble into the ruins.”

She folds her arms over her chest and smirks at him. “You know, I am pretty busy. And if you’re any bit as spry as you used to be…there’s no way I could’ve known someone was accessing the ruins.” She nods to Anarchaia. “Keep an eye on this one.” She motions at Koltira with her eyes.

Anarchaia gives a thumbs up and smiles. “We owe you one, friend.” She cringes at her own behavior and steps toward the rubble of the destroyed wall.

“Enjoy your studies. Al diel shala.” She turns on her heel and races back to her band of elves. One by one the others also turn their backs to the two at the opening to the ruins.

Koltira hops up the boulders with dexterity unfitting to a death knight, then crouches to hold out his hand for the mage. “Not as fun sneaking in when you have permission,” he laughs.

Anarchaia chortles and takes his hand, hoisting herself up to his level. “You prefer to be sneaky?”

He gives her a wicked smile. “I think it’s thrilling; the looming threat of getting caught.”

Anarchaia returns the smile, eyes half lidded beneath her mask. “Didn’t know you were such a risk taker.”

Koltira laughs and jumps into the ruins. “Well, I guess there are still things you’ll have to learn about me.”

Anarchaia blinks to the space beside him and gives him a playful shove. “Or you could stop being so mysterious.” She steps to climb a large piece of rubble in hopes of getting a better view.

Koltira smirks. “Did I miss the moment when I was supposed to have shared that?”

Anarchaia shrugs and lifts a hand to touch a hanging jewel as she leaps down from the rock. “Mayhaps. Mayhaps not.”

Koltira chuckles. “Come on. Let’s look at this disaster, then.”

“I thought we were here to see the ruins, not me.” Anarchaia smiles as she kicks a small pebble from her path. She bends at the waist to view a shattered piece of pottery.

Koltira raises an eyebrow and purses his lips at the mage. “That kind of talk isn’t going to be tolerated.” He kicks a blackened weed trying to grow in the dead soil. “Besides, I already won the title of worst person at their job.”

Anarchaia shrugs. “Perhaps at your job, yes.” She turns to walk backward as she talks to him. “But I meant physically. You have to admit that, of the two of us, you got the long end of the _attractive scourge_ stick.”

Koltira makes a face. “I think you’re not seeing things clearly from behind that mask of yours.” He goes to her and slips his thumbs under the bottom of her mask, a look of challenge on his face. “Maybe you should take it off.”

Anarchaia stiffens, eyes glancing about in case others also happen to have wanted a secret tour of the ruins. She huffs and places her hands on her hips, accepting the challenge. “I know what I said.”

“I wasn’t challenging your communications skills.” He inches the mask up. “I was challenging your ability to see clearly.” He pulls it up a little more.

Anarchaia’s fingers twitch on her hips as she resists the urge to stop him. “Really? Because it seems more like you’re challenging my self-confidence.”

Koltira smiles. “Oh, that, too. I don’t think you see what is actually there. You’re looking for a monster, so you see one. I’m looking for Anarchaia,” he pulls the mask above her eyes and looks into her red pupil, “so I see her.”

Anarchaia pauses, cheeks turning a bright scarlet. She clears her throat and reaches up to again yank down her mask. “F-false dilemma.”

Koltira stops her from pulling down the mask and leans in as though about to kiss her. He stops just short and grins. “Admit I’m right.”

Anarchaia swallows and hesitates. “Make me.”

Koltira moves close enough that the very tips of their lips touch, but he doesn’t kiss her. “Don’t think I won’t.” He pushes up on the mask to yank it off her head entirely.

The mage flinches as her hair falls into her face. She narrows her eyes up into his with defiance and smiles to hide her discomfort. “I’m counting on it.”

Koltira holds the mask behind his back. He pushes his other hand against the small of Anarchaia’s back to hold her against him. “Are you, now?” he whispers.

She snakes her hands around his waist to sneakily reach for her mask. “You’re not doing a very good job of getting me to admit that you’re right.”

Koltira chuckles at her fingers at his side. “Trying to get that mask of yours? Too bad I already stowed it.” He gives her lips a quick peck, then takes off running deeper into the ruins.

“_Uh!_” The mage clenches her fists and follows, pulling up her hood. “You’re the worst! What if someone sees me?!”

Koltira laughs and shouts over his shoulder, “Then they’ll be stunned into silence by your beauty!”

Anarchaia glares as she blinks a few yards ahead to catch up. “Not everyone is as nice and accepting as you, you know!” she hisses.

“Maybe you should give them a chance!” He stops to watch her run after him.

The mage blinks forward again, reaching for his belt where she suspects he’s hiding her mask. “I’ve given them many!”

Koltira’s eyes widen and snap to the door raising right beside them. “Uh, shit. Hide!” He shoves Anarchaia toward a crumbling doorway on the opposite side of the dead scar from the gate.

The mage quickly turns the corner through the doorway and presses her back against the wall, heart pounding for both rational and irrational reasons. “But they’ll miss my _beauty_,” she hisses in a hushed tone and sticks out her tongue.

Koltira flattens against the wall beside Anarchaia. “I’m more concerned with the charge of trespassing.” He grabs her mask and shoves it onto her head—backward.

Anarchaia jerks then scowls beneath her reversed mask. She scrambles to right it, tucking her hair into the sides. “I could teleport us out. But we didn’t see what we came to see, yet,” she whispers.

Koltira purses his lips. “I might be okay with that.” He stops to listen. “Oh, fuck me sideways. What are _they_ doing here?”

Anarchaia grins beneath her mask. “Right here? Right now?” She peeks around the corner then jerks back. “Oh.”

“_Oh_. Yeah, _oh_. Gods. One day, just _one day_.” Koltira grabs her hand. “I’m okay with leaving if you are.”

Anarchaia gives him an understanding smile and nods. “If it’s really what you want.” She takes his other hand with her own. “Want to walk through the forest instead?”

Koltira thinks on it. “I’m sorry. We came all this way and we had a deal… It’s your choice.”

Anarchaia tilts her head at the approaching footsteps and hesitates. “I-I don’t care. I honestly just came here to be with you. And to see the city of course, but…”

“Oh, gods. Screw it. I won’t let them ruin our trip.”


	14. Chapter 14

Alisbeth bites her lip in excitement as she looks out at the bustling streets of Dalaran. She’d already resisted waking Grimory for some hours, but can’t wait any longer. With a giggle, she jumps across the bed to land on him. “Grim! Let’s go see Diori!”

Grimory grunts and turns beneath her to roll away. “Ten more minutes,” he grumbles, pulling the pillow over his head.

Alisbeth frowns and shoves her face under the pillow. “But, the sun is up! That means daytime and that means the living should be awake and _that_ means Diori is awake and we can go see her before Taveth does something stupid!” She shakes his shoulders.

Grimory groans and sits up. “Not all living people are awake during the day, you know.” He rubs at an eye and stretches. “You were alive once. You should know that.” He gets off the bed and scoops up his leather breeches.

Alisbeth shoves to press against his front. She sets her chin on his chest and smiles up at him. “Children in school are awake during the day. That’s enough for me.”

Grimory smiles and wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer. “Grumpy cousins are awake, too, though.” He releases her and reaches for his armor.

Alisbeth shrugs and digs through her destroyed dresser for some clothes. “You said you’d apologize. So, you’re going to apologize. I want a shower, though. Care to join?” She grins over her shoulder as she finds her bag of soaps.

Grimory narrows his eyes as he unties the armor he’d just tied. “Love to. And I apologized last night. Profusely, even.”

Alisbeth shrugs and opens the door to head for the showers, her items slung over one arm. “Oh. Okay.” She grins and skips down the hall.

Grimory picks up his belt and follows. “You should be the one to talk to him, though. He doesn’t like me very much.”

Alisbeth opens the shower room door and waits for him. “Of course! He is _my_ cousin, after all.”

~ * ~

Alisbeth squeezes the water from her hair as she opens her room door and tosses everything inside, then locks it and pockets the key. She doesn’t wait for Grimory, zipping down the stairs and through the streets to the Silver Enclave. She races for the door and a mage standing guard stuns her and teleports her several yards from the entrance.

Alisbeth frowns. “Hey! I need in there! My cousin is in there!”

“No Horde,” the human says sternly.

Grimory catches up moments later, still adjusting his hair. “What’s up?” he asks.

Alisbeth pouts and folds her arms over her chest. “He won’t let me in to find Taveth. They don’t _care_ that my _daughter_ is in there!” She raises her voice enough for the guards to hear.

The high elf guard regards her softly. “Your daughter remained high elven?”

Alisbeth pauses to consider if she should continue speaking to the guard. “Yes. She is in the care of my cousin, Taveth Nightheart.”

The human guard turns to the elven one and sighs. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” He turns back to Alisbeth. “You stay here. I’ll fetch them.” He disappears into the busy street behind him.

Grimory shrugs. “Better than nothing.”

Alisbeth nearly runs forward as she sees Taveth and Diori, but then stops herself when the high elf tenses. Instead, Alisbeth bounces on the balls of her feet, grinning excitedly.

Diori abandons Taveth’s hand as she runs forward, arms outstretched. “Ali! Grim!”

Grimory steps closer to Alisbeth so the three can embrace together.

The death knight grips both of them tight in her arms, then eases up, remembering how fragile a living child is.

“I’m learning healing spells today!” Diori sings as she steps back. “Teacher says I’m doing well.”

“That’s great to hear,” Grimory says with a grin. He regards Taveth with a curt wave.

He nods at Grimory, then leans in to hug Alisbeth. “What brings you here so early?”

She chews on her bottom lip, then gives him a sweet smile. “I was wondering if…”

“If?”

“If we could takeDioritoSilvermoon.”

Taveth’s eyes narrow at the two of them. “You know as well as I do that she can’t.”

“We figure that high elves are allowed. Children are protected by treaty.” Grimory folds his arms over his chest.

Diori bounces excitedly, looking up at Taveth.

“She’s in the middle of her lessons,” he says.

Alisbeth purses her lips. “Well…this could be a good history lesson! I’ll teach her all about the battle for Silvermoon!”

He narrows his eyes again, then sighs down at Diori. “Healing spells are very important to learn…but I’ll let you go. _If_ they’ll allow her within the city.” He folds his arms, trying not to look interested. “I’d like to accompany, if possible. To…keep an eye on…things.”

Diori’s eyes brighten and she grabs onto Alisbeth again. “Yes! I’ve always wanted to go there! This is going to be so exciting!”

Grimory smirks at Taveth’s restraint. “I suppose there’s always room for one more.”

Alisbeth laughs. She takes Taveth’s hand as she holds onto Diori. “Of course you can come!” She frowns at the guards. “I hope.” She guides them toward the other side of Dalaran, where the portals to other cities are.

Diori hops along as they walk. “I wanna see a dragonhawk!”

Grimory smiles and takes Diori’s other hand, lifting her off her feet every few hops. “We’ll take you to the stable master and you can pet one.”

The little elf gives a small scream of excitement and hops faster.

Alisbeth smiles. But it falls as they approach Windrunner’s Sanctuary. She stops in her tracks, her eyes wide on the guards. “G-Grim…Grim, I can’t.”

Taveth cocks an eyebrow at her and sets a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

She slaps her hands over her eyes and hisses, “Forsaken.”

“Just keep your eyes closed,” Grimory says, ushering a confused Diori to his other side and holding out his free hand to Alisbeth. “If you can’t see them, they aren’t there, yeah?”

She nods. “Okay.” She takes Grimory’s hand and covers her eyes with her other hand.

As they approach, the guards draw their weapons. “No Alliance,” one says.

Taveth holds up his hands. “Please, I just want to accompany my little sister to Silvermoon so she can learn about the battle.”

The second guard gives the first a wary glance. “I…guess it couldn’t hurt.” He turns on Taveth. “If you cause any trouble…”

Taveth smiles innocently. “Me? Trouble? Please, I’m just a scholar.”

“Just a scholar!” Alisbeth yells. “No trouble! Promise!”

The Deathguard narrows his eyes behind his helm, then jerks his chin in the direction of the portals.

Grimory nods in appreciation and pulls both the girls toward the portal. “We’re wasting daylight,” he says eagerly.

Taveth nods his thanks as they pass, then sets a hand on Alisbeth’s free elbow. “I think you can uncover your eyes now.”

“Hm-mmm. Nope. Not happening.” She grips Grimory’s hand even tighter as she stumbles along beside him.

The demon hunter laughs and stops before the portal. “Want me to tell you when we’re on the other side?” He hands Diori over to Taveth.

Alisbeth purses her lips. “Yes, please.”

Taveth takes the girl into his arms. “Grim, these guards were…understanding. What happens when we get to Silvermoon?”

Grimory pulls the death knight toward the portal. “We negotiate. Like I did with you.”

He steps through the portal with Alisbeth. “You can look, now,” he says with a tug on her hand.

She opens her eyes and smiles. “It’s like I remember.”

Taveth nods. “Right. Let’s go, then. Diori, hold tight, okay?”

Diori grins and nods, holding onto his hand with both of her own. “Okay!”

Taveth holds tight to Diori and steps through the portal with her in tow. His entire body tightens, immediately on edge as the blood elves in the room stop and stare at the two high elves.

“No Allia—!”

“They’re neutral parties!” Grimory says quickly, hands held up in defense. “He’s the child’s…brother. They’re both here on strictly educational terms.”

“No Alliance,” the second guard repeats curtly.

Alisbeth throws her arms out and puts herself in front of her family. “Please! I’m Captain Redblade, and these are my guests!”

Taveth curls over to protect Diori.

The first guard’s lip curls. “Captain Redblade? I’d heard tell of her death. Even more, you’re a death knight, which wouldn’t make you the same Redblade.”

Alisbeth frowns. “But I am…” She looks around desperately. “I just want to show my daughter the history of our people.”

“By treaty we have no qualms with the child. How do we know the man can be trusted? Perhaps he’s here to take information back to the enemy.”

Grimory steps forward, arms outstretched in a peaceful gesture. “Gentleman. I assure you this man will do nothing of the sort. And if he does, I’ll personally bring his head back to you.”

“And why would we trust a spy in the hands of a traitor?” the second guard sneers.

“Please,” comes a small voice from behind the demon hunter. Diori steps forward, hands clasped and eyes big. “We just want to see the city. We won’t do anything bad. We promise.”

The first guard shifts uncomfortably, glancing sideways at his comrade then back to those before him. After a long moment he growls and steps aside. “Fine,” he hisses, to his partner’s disbelief.

With the tensions eased, a mage steps forward, smiling at Alisbeth. “Corporal Skysong… Do you remember her?”

Alisbeth furrows her brow. “My memory isn’t what it used to be…”

The man nods in understanding. “She learned a lesson about her boots?”

A smile parts the death knight’s lips. “She stepped in dung. Left her boots outside her tent to air out. So I nicked them.” Alisbeth laughs. “She showed up for roll call in pink stockings! Of course I remember her!”

The man laughs with her. “She was my sister. She, um, didn’t survive the assault. But she always said it was a great honor to be under the command of a Redblade.” He sighs and conjures two scarlet and gold tabards. He holds them out to the high elves. “Put these on and no harm will befall you in the city. After all, you’re the guests of Captain Redblade.” He stares pointedly at the guards.

“Thank you, friend.” Taveth takes the tabard and slips it on.

Alisbeth smiles wide. “Thank you so much. And your sister… It was an honor to have known her. She was an asset in my squad. Really.”

Diori unfolds the tabard and examines it, eyes bright with interest. She smiles up at the man while Grimory throws it over her head for her. “Thank you, mister.”

Alisbeth ushers them outside, a huge grin on her face. “I can’t wait to show you! The first time that I saw Silvermoon it was just amazing!”

Diori’s grin widens and she reaches for Alisbeth’s hand. “I wanna see _everything_!”

Alisbeth ignores the hand and picks Diori up to set her on her shoulders. “Okay, where shall we start? The main city? Or where the battle took place? Where do you want to go?”

Taveth purses his lips. “I’m rather interested in where the battle took place. I mean, it is where we thought you’d died. And the things we’ve heard of it…”

“Yes!” Diori agrees with Taveth. “Do you think we’ll see skeletons?” she asks down to Grimory, fingers wrapped around Alisbeth’s ears.

He grins nervously. “Not the kind you’re thinking of.”

Alisbeth shoots Grimory a sideways glance. “The bodies were all burned.”

Taveth eyes his cousin. “Why is that?”

She purses her lips, but doesn’t answer.

“Look!” Diori points to a woman walking with two dragonhawks at either side and bounces on Alisbeth’s shoulders. “So cool!”

The death knight smiles. “Maybe we can get you a pet dragonhawk. If it’s okay with Taveth, of course.”

He makes a face. “It would be your responsibility, Diori. I don’t want anything to do with it. If you let it die, you don’t get another. We’ll also have to convince father to allow it back home.”

Diori pouts and folds her arms. “I could _so_ take care of one.” She thinks for a moment. “I want a puppy, though.”

Taveth’s expression deepens. “Yeah, that’s all you and dad. I’m not dealing with a puppy.”

Alisbeth laughs aloud and punches his arm. “Some things _never_ change!”

He rubs his arm and frowns. “And some things do. Did dying make you _stronger?_ Because that’s not fair.”

“Aww, is Tabbef afwaid of a widdle giwl?” She punches his arm again.

“_Ow!_ Would you _stop!_ You know how prone to bruising I am!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Come on.” She pulls him under an arm for a sideways hug as they walk.

When he drifts away again, she punches his arm. Alisbeth laughs and grips Diori’s ankles as she takes off running from her cousin. Diori screams with delight as they run, giggling the entire way.

Grimory holds back a chuckle at Taveth’s expense. “Ain’t much of a fighter, are you?”

Taveth grumbles. “I really do bruise easily. Books are less apt to beating me up.”

He snorts a laugh. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Alisbeth runs with Diori through Murder Row and into the Bazaar. She stops and frowns at the huge wooden boards set into the wall where a gate used to be. “Hmm.”

Diori blinks and tugs on her mother’s ears. “What’s wrong? Is that the entrance?”

“No. I mean, it _was_, but…” She strides forward to the guards at either side of the boarded up area.

“Are they a scholar, too?” Taveth asks as they exit the main street. He peers around, then heads toward the Bazaar. “They had to have gone this way.”

“The scholarly-est. She’s apprentice to the guy who runs Dalaran.” The Illidari kicks over a passing broom and the object tumbles, gets back up, and resumes is course. “That’s the quickest way.” He leads Taveth toward the direction of the wall.

“This area is off limits,” the guard on the left says tiredly as though he’s had to explain this many times.

Alisbeth smiles and sets Diori down, then runs smoothing fingers through her hair. “Hi, you might not remember me. Captain Alisbeth Redblade.”

The other guard’s attention snaps to her. “Redblade? Really? I heard you died.”

“Well, I did, but…”

He smiles and drops his serious demeanor. “I was under your command during the Scourge attack. You saved my sister’s life in Outland.” He turns to the other guard. “I told you I knew her!”

“I never said you didn’t,” the second guard says in an equally exhausted tone.

Alisbeth smiles charmingly. “So, um, is this a gate or do you guard a bunch of wood?”

The guard laughs. “Yes, it’s a gate.”

“So…can you open it?”

He looks to his partner.

Taveth leans in to whisper in Alisbeth’s ear. “Are you really trying to manipulate this poor guard?”

She gives him a sly grin.

The sleepy guard does a double take at his companion, brow knit. “I’m unsure why you’re looking at _me_. Anything you do is on your own head. You know I couldn’t care less.”

“_Please._” Alisbeth smiles.

The guard looks around nervously.

Taveth smiles. “It would be really helpful.” He motions at the satchel on his shoulder. “I’m a scholar. It would really help my research.”

The guard purses his lips. “Fine.” He pulls a lever off to the side and the gate begins to raise up.

“Thank you so, very, very much,” Taveth says. “Really, you’ve saved my life’s work.”

Diori gabs Alisbeth’s hand and pulls her toward the opening gate, quickly ducking under it once it’s open just enough.

Grimory laughs. “Slow down, Diori. It’ll still be there once the gate’s risen.” He nods to the tired guard who shrugs in response.

Alisbeth runs forward with Diori, grabbing Taveth’s hand with her free one.

The girl quickly scoops up a dirty doll that’s missing any eye while the other dangles precariously by a thread. “Gross.”

Alisbeth smiles and laughs. “Can’t expect her to be pretty after being through a battle.”

“Can we fix her?” Diori holds up the doll for the death knight to inspect.

Alisbeth quirks her mouth to the side. “Wouldn’t you rather have a new doll?”

She shakes her head. “This one is cooler. She’s from the ruins in Silvermoon.” She sobers. “I bet she was some little girl’s, before all this happened. I want this one.”

Alisbeth forces a smile and crouches to look at Diori. “Maybe that little girl is out there somewhere, right now.” She brushes at the doll’s dirty cloth face. “Maybe we can fix it together…if you really want to keep it.”

Diori thinks on this. “Then maybe we’ll find her one day and we can give it back.” She smiles and tries to wipe off the dirt with the underside of her tabard. “Or we don’t and I can keep her.”

Alisbeth laughs. “I think keeping her is just fine. Want to see if we can find the other eye?”

Grimory bends down to pluck a weathered arrow from the dirt. He twirls it in his fingers, then narrows his eyes at what appears to be fresh footprints in the soil. “Queer.”

“The arrow?” Taveth says, peeking around Grimory’s arm.

“No. Those.” The demon hunter gestures to the prints.

Taveth purses his lips. “Looks like they go that way,” he whispers. “Let’s, um, well… You can go first.” He holds out his arm, gesturing for Grimory to take the lead.

Grimory lifts his brows and smiles. “Oh? Are you _sure_ you wouldn’t rather take up the lead?” He chuckles, shakes his head, and steps off in the direction the prints lead.

Taveth gives a nervous chuckle. “Oh, no, I’m fine. Stand back and observe, take notes. All that. Heh.”

Grimory cocks an eyebrow and kicks a pebble from his path. “All you nerds are the same.” He leans around a large rock, taking note of the scuff marks on top. “This way.”

Taveth stays behind Grimory, his eyes darting around to take in every detail to write down later.

Alisbeth peeks around Diori, taking note of the tension surrounding the other two as they head across the ruins.


	15. Chapter 15

Koltira steps to the doorway and purses his lips at the demon hunter. “Well, well. Small world. What brings you to my city?”

Grimory blinks and straightens, smirking playfully. “I thought I smelled mediocrity.” He laughs quietly. “I’m willing to bet Ana’s back there, too. Pretty grim place to be _taking a walk_, yeah?”

Anarchaia steps out and folds her arms as she slumps over some, but says nothing.

Diori nods at Alisbeth, then turns around at the sound of a new voice. “It’s Koltira. And the scary lady. How did they get in here, too?”

Alisbeth shakes her head. “I don’t know. Would you like to go ask or look for the eye?”

Diori mulls over her thoughts and turns back around. “Eye.”

“Eye it is. Do you think it’s buried? Maybe we should dig where we found the doll.”

Koltira narrows his eyes but chooses to ignore the mediocrity jab. “We’re just touring locations from our pasts. Who doesn’t love a nice visit to the place where they died?”

Taveth yanks his notebook and pen out of his satchel. “You died here? Where were you resurrected? And you,” he points at Anarchaia with the end of his pen, “did you die here, too?” He begins writing down everything that has happened so far.

Anarchaia stiffens, then gives an uncomfortable laugh. “Oh. I-I’m not dead. Heh.”

Grimory shifts his weight to a hip and chews on the inside of his cheek. “Pretty dangerous place to be sightseeing. I know that I’m not too keen on visiting all the places _I’ve_ died…”

Taveth frowns. “O-oh! I’m so sorry, Miss—Ma’am—Missus? I-I didn’t know, I just assumed because of the um—” He motions up and down his own face. “Heh. Forgive me, please.” He returns to scribbling in his notebook as though she’d already forgiven him.

Koltira leans against the crumbling wall and cocks an eyebrow at the man still huddling behind Grimory as though he or Anarchaia might prove to be hostile. His eyes then narrow and shift between Taveth and Anarchaia. He starts to laugh. “Interesting companions you keep picking up, there, Grim.”

Grimory tilts his head. “Not my fault smart people seem to enjoy my company. Perhaps they just prefer someone that makes them feel safe.”

“Miss,” Anarchaia corrects Taveth, then bristles at Grimory’s words. “I’m definitely safe with Koltira,” she says, then regrets the cattiness in her voice. “…as much as I was with you.”

Koltira rolls his eyes at Grimory. “Plus, she’s plenty capable of taking care of herself.”

Taveth jumps suddenly, his pen scratching across the paper to leave an ugly, black line. “_All_ the places?” He stares wide-eyed at Grimory. “Fascinating!” He starts writing again. “How many times have you died? Where were the locations?” He gasps and shakes with sudden excitement. “Would you _show_ me the places you’ve died?” He squints back at his paper, then reaches into his satchel and retrieves a pair of over-sized round spectacles. Once they’re curled behind his ears, his eyes take on a disproportionately large quality. “We can do that later, of course, we’re both busy men. You, though,” he points at Koltira, “where did you die? What can you tell me about the battle? Wh- I- Diori! History lesson!” He shouts down the ruins. “She loves this stuff. Anything to do with cousin Ali and her grand adventures.” His attention falls right back to his book with his furious scribbling.

Grimory opens his mouth to respond but is immediately cut off. His gaze shifts from Taveth to Koltira, confusion apparent on his face.

Anarchaia blinks, then brings her fingertips to her lips as she giggles. _Cute._

Taveth does a double take on Grimory and stops writing. “I’m sorry, did you say how many times? I must’ve missed it.”

Koltira’s gaze meets Grimory’s in an equally confused expression, then his eyes shift from Taveth to the mage giggling beside him.

“Eight,” Grimory says, giving a lower number than actuality. “Most in Mardum. Very painful. Don’t recommend.”

~~

Diori nods and saunters off in the opposite direction of the other adults. “Maybe we can give her jewel ones if we can’t find it,” she hums.

“Maybe we can find sapphires so she looks like you!” Alisbeth taps the blue button eye. “Your eyes shine like gems. Much more beautiful than buttons.”

Diori blushes and giggles, then cranes her head at the sound of her name. “You can give me a history lesson yourself, right?” She says to Alisbeth. “Taveth takes forever to explain things.”

Alisbeth laughs. “He can, can’t he?” She cranes her neck to the others. “Though, this time, I don’t think he’s the one giving the history lesson. He doesn’t know what happened here, I don’t think.” She smiles down at her daughter. “But yes, I can talk about it. Come on.” She holds out her hand to take Diori back to the others.

Diori gladly follows, holding the tattered doll to her chest with her free arm.

When they arrive at the others, Alisbeth rests on a hip, still holding Diori’s hand. “History lesson, huh? Would you like me to give it?”

Taveth lowers his notebook gravely. “H-he, uh…” He points at Koltira.

The death knight in the doorway purses his lips. “How about we both tell it like we remember? She can go first.”

“O-oh.” Alisbeth fails hiding her shock at him asking her to go first. “Are you sure?”

Grimory sets a hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder. “Unless you don’t want to, obviously.”

Anarchaia does her best to inconspicuously conjure her own parchment and quill, but the sudden displacement of air and matter causes a small _crack_ behind her and she smiles. “Sorry.”

Koltira gives her a reassuring smile.

Taveth pushes his spectacles down to the pointed tip of his nose and tilts his head down to look first at Anarchaia, giving her a knowing smile, then he turns to his cousin. “He’s right, you don’t have to. I mean, I’d rather you _did_, but that’s just me. And her, of course.” He points at Anarchaia with the end of his fountain pen.

Alisbeth smiles and crouches to Diori’s level. “I bet you want to hear it, don’t you? Like one of my letters!” She picks Diori up by the waist and spins her around, then sets her on Grimory’s shoulder. “So, the Scourge army was marching up through Quel’Thalas.” She points through the destroyed gate and frowns. “Seems they killed the soil.”

“Killed the soil, interesting,” Taveth says, writing it down.

Alisbeth clears her throat. “I will have Alibooboo send you back to Dalaran.”

“Heh. Sorry.” He clears his throat and shoves his spectacles back up his nose with a finger, then flips to another page, adjusting the leather book in his hand.

“Okay. We were evacuating civilians. My Leutenant had woken me at dawn, when the alarms sounded.” Her eyes flit to Koltira for a brief moment. “I and a few officers were positioned just…here.” She stands a few yards forward of the courtyard door. “The farstriders were lined up along the wall as our first line of defense. They were ordered to retreat as the gate crumbled beneath them. Foot soldiers engaged the Scourge as they broke through. Many died immediately. We didn’t know how strong they were.” She walks along the path, studying her surroundings. She motions at a sunken area. “It was here that Bloodmane fell. She took several ghouls with her, though. She bucked me from her and there was nothing I could do but retreat.” Alisbeth stoops and begins digging through the dirt. She finds remnants of dead Scourge, but nothing of her horse. She purses her lips and sighs. “I never asked, but I think she was burned with the rest of the bodies.”

Koltira shakes his head. “They didn’t.”

Alisbeth nods. “Then…I don’t know. I don’t know where she is.” She stands and wipes her hands on her trousers. “Koltira spotted Thassarian entering the gate. I begged him to let it go, but… ‘Honor,’ right? He fought well. He really did. But Thassarian was stronger. I was here when he was run through. I was too far away to do anything.” Her eyes focus on nothing as she relives the moment, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Taveth steps to her and holds out a handkerchief. “That’s why you never wrote to us about the battle. It was too painful.” His calm drops as she takes the handkerchief, his nose presses back to his book. “Then what happened?”

Alisbeth rolls her eyes at Taveth. “I was fighting my way to him. If I got there in time, maybe I could’ve healed him. My abilities as a healer weren’t great, but I thought I could…do _something_. I was struck in the back of the head. When I woke, I was buried under a pile of dead scourge.” She shrugs. “I don’t know what happened for the rest of the battle.”

“Fascinating,” Anarchaia breathes, her quill doing its best to catch up as she wraps an arm about herself and rests the opposite elbow on it, chewing on her thumb.

Diori’s eyes fill with tears. “They didn’t bury the horsey?”

Grimory chuckles beneath her and shakes her leg in a comforting manner.

Taveth makes some final notations then glances to Koltira. “Right, so, what about you? Anything you can add?”

Alisbeth climbs to sit on a piece of fallen wall and hugs her knees to her chest. She smiles up at Diori. “It’s okay. I’m sure Bloodmane was honored in some way.”

Koltira twitches and looks over at Anarchaia. “Guess this is as good of time as any to come clean,” he mumbles. He steps forward to stand near Taveth. “I was on the wall with the other farstriders. I’d come to the city in the middle of the night, after An’owyn fell. I was the only survivor of the attack on the temple. The Scourge force was…a massive line cutting through the land straight for us. There weren’t enough arrows in all of Silvermoon to have stopped them before the gate. We called a retreat as the wall started to crumble. Many of my companions went down with it. We tried to pull them up, but the geists…they leap higher than we’d known at the time.”

“Geist, which one is that?” Taveth interrupts.

“Oh, the crouching one with the hood.”

“Like this,” the mage says, crouching down. Her form becomes encased in smoke and when it clears a geist stands in her place, noose dangling against the dirt.

Diori groans in apprehension and pulls on Grimory’s horns.

“Ana, you’re scaring Diori,” the Illidari hisses.

Anarchaia stands upright again and recovers her own visage, laughing nervously. “Sorry. Heh.”

Taveth groans at his rough sketch. “Can I have you do that again later so I can finish my drawing? I mean, I know all of this is probably in some books I’ve yet to read, but my— I… like to have my own documents on-hand.”

Anarchaia gives another nervous titter and scratches at the back of her head. “Of course!”

“It’s okay,” Alisbeth coos at Diori. “Geists are actually nice. They have a really funny laugh like _Mua-hur-hur!_” She mimics the laugh in a guttural tone. “They have some in Acherus. Great sense of humor, bad at cards.”

Diori groans again, unconvinced.

Grimory gives another laugh. “They’re honestly harmless. Besides, I’ll always protect you.” He cranes his head up to wink at her.

“Continue, please,” Taveth says to Koltira.

He nods and gets his bearing. “Alisbeth was here, on her charger, surrounded by a pile of dead undead.” He cocks his head as he contemplates his phrasing, then shakes it. “That horse…I watched her lift a hoof and knock a ghoul’s head right off. The two of them made quite a team. After the mare fell, Ali backed up and started a new pile, fueled by her anger at Bloodmane’s death. It really was amazing to watch, actually. I’d never seen a paladin in full battle before, only seen some of what she could do in small sparring sessions. I think she held back.”

“I held back.” She smiles.

He laughs. “I had to meet Thassarian in combat. You see, he was there at An’owyn. He nearly killed my brother, but faltered. I had a hunch and I followed him. Once I’d gotten him alone I tried convincing him to switch sides. He nearly did, I think. But the Lich King’s will is…strong. I didn’t know just how strong it was. Thassarian disarmed me and broke my knee. I knew I’d lost. With the Lich King’s strength, he was the better warrior. Again, he hesitated. But not long enough for help to come to me. I still bear the scar of his sword in my chest.”

Taveth’s eyes widen and, magnified by his spectacles, they bug impossibly large for his face. “Can I see?”

Alisbeth rolls her eyes. “Not now, cousin.”

“Later. Later? Yes, later. Please.”

Koltira makes another face of pure confusion and stares at the demon hunter, since Alisbeth is looking away from him.

Grimory merely rolls his eyes and shrugs a shoulder. “Maybe he likes you.”

Diori can’t help but notice the strange air between the two death knights but finds herself too shy to say anything. “What happened next?”

Koltira falters, his lips twitching as he tries to smile for the child, but can’t because of the subject. “I opened my eyes. I was confused at first, but then Thassarian and Arthas stood over me and I knew then that he’d raised me. Right where I died. His will propelled me forward with the Scourge. I came across a man. He was staring at me in shock.” He unsheathes Byfrost and stares at the blade. “He was holding this. I didn’t get to think about it. My body acted as my mind screamed out. I took the Redblade from him and killed him.” He looks directly at Alisbeth. “I killed So’daras, Ali. I’m sorry.”

She covers her mouth tight with her hand, holding back a cry. Tears drip from her eyes across the back of her hand.

Koltira clears his throat. “I, um, I took the sword because I knew what it was. That much I could understand and control. I thought she had died, so I took the Redblade as a reminder of her. The Lich King gave me a ‘gift’ as well, so I could march with the other death knights. The charger of a paladin. Resurrected, of course.”

“Bloodmist?” Alisbeth squeaks.

“Was Bloodmane, yes.”

Grimory sets his hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder again. “At least she’s still with you.”

“So horsey is fine?” Diori says excitedly, then bounces. “Can I meet her?!”

“That’s why she likes you more than me,” Koltira says. He smiles at Diori. “Of course, you can. I’ll bring her to Dalaran sometime.”

Alisbeth wipes at her face and sniffs. “She’s one of those undead horses.”

Diori’s eyes sparkle. “That’s so cool! I bet she looks even better now. And she can’t die, right?” She kicks her heels idly against Grimory’s chest.

Alisbeth laughs. “I think she was beautiful before, too. She was…white.”

Taveth grunts. “Yes, yes, fascinating. So, what happened next?” He stares at Koltira over the top of his lenses.

He turns to look down the other end of the path. “We marched on the Sunwell, killing everyone in our path. Friends, comrades…I helped kill them all. I couldn’t stop it. I tried to resist every step of the way, but I couldn’t stop it. After that was done, we went to Icecrown Citadel and waited. We trained and waited for Arthas to come out of his block of ice and give us new orders.”

“I’m so sorry,” the mage says quietly from her alcove, bending down to hug her knees as she listens, quill still scribbling.

“A block of ice, hmm?” Grimory muses. “Should have stayed there. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble, from the sounds of it.”

Koltira chuckles. “Well, if he hadn’t come out, then I don’t know that I’d have regained my own will. Excuse me if I’d rather not be a puppet.”

Taveth makes quiet affirmation noises as he writes. “Can you tell me more about An’owyn.”

The death knight takes a breath and holds it, then lets it out as a sigh. “Another day, perhaps.” He catches Diori’s eye and gives a sort of half smile. “Your mother is a real hero.”

“Was,” Alisbeth corrects.

He shakes his head. “Still are. You just get…side tracked.”

Diori smiles down at Alisbeth with understanding in her eyes. “We missed your letters.”

Anarchaia clears her throat and straightens again. “What, then? Just waiting? How long was this before Arthas was vanquished?”

“Nine years,” Alisbeth says. “He was under the Lich King’s control for nearly a decade.”

“The Lich King was defeated three years later,” Koltira says.

Diori looks up at the sky, bored of the grave talk of time. “What if he comes back?”

Grimory gives a chuckle and tugs on her leg. “He’ll get more of the same, I guess. Maybe you’ll be the one to kill him this time.” He bites gently on her ankle and she giggles.

Taveth furrows his brow. “The Lich King can’t come back. He’s dead.”

Alisbeth and Koltira exchange a look and Taveth’s eyes bug out again.

“He’s not?”

“Don’t write that down,” Alisbeth demands. “It’s best the rest of the world not know. But there _has_ to be a Lich King to keep the Scourge at bay. To keep them in Northrend.” She stands as he starts writing. “_Taveth!_” She raises a fist.

“Okay!” He scribbles over the last few sentences he wrote. “Doesn’t go beyond us. Right. Heh.” He shrinks away from her, nonchalantly placing Grimory between them.

The demon hunter furrows his brow, then shrugs. “Doesn’t worry me any. If anything happens with this—I assume _new_—guy, we’ll just take him out. Lord Illidan will help once we’ve recovered his soul.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Anarchaia says, her parchment and quill disappearing. “I’m sure he has his own personal business. Once he knows it’s not Arthas…he may not care.”

“Bolvar,” Koltira says quietly.

Alisbeth frowns and looks up at Diori. “Did you want to keep looking for that eye?”

The small elf nods and wiggles to be set down. She reaches for Alisbeth’s hand when her feet touch the earth. “This is getting sad. I don’t like it anymore.”

Alisbeth takes Diori’s hand and lets the girl lead her. “I’m sorry that got so sad. War is sad, though.”

Diori nods. “I know. That’s why I want to be a healer. To help people who are in war.”

Alisbeth smiles. “I’m glad you want to help people. I’d rather you didn’t go to war yourself, though. But no one knows what the future holds.”

Diori blinks up at her. “But, I want to be a strong warrior like you. And Grim. I want to fight and ride a horse and defend the things I love.”

The death knight groans. “_If_ the occasion arises, then I insist on being there to protect you. I also have the desire to defend the things I love.”

Diori pouts and kicks at the ground. “I can be strong, too! I don’t want you to protect me forever.”

“How about we protect each other!” Alisbeth says.

Diori then smiles and nods. “I guess. Oh!” She bends over and picks up a dulled button from the dirt. She sticks out her tongue when it doesn’t match and tosses it back.

Alisbeth stoops as something catches her eye. She unburies it quickly, then gasps, a frown pulling at her lips as she holds the intricately carved bow, which has been broken in half and damaged by time. She looks back toward the others and sighs.

“What is it?” Diori asks quietly, hugging the doll tightly to her chest.

“Koltira’s bow.” She gives the girl a sad smile. “He made it himself.” She traces her fingertips along the carvings, finding the most beautiful of them near the end, where it had gone unfinished.

“Do you like him?” the small elf asks, glancing over her shoulder at the other death knight and mage as they walk away.

Alisbeth laughs. “Of course I like him. That’s why I married him. But we’re different now. So, we’re not married anymore.”

Diori tilts her head. “So, marry Grim, then. I like him better anyway.” She picks up a feather and blows the dust from it.

Alisbeth coughs, her eyes widening. “Um, no. I don’t think so. No. Sorry. He doesn’t want… No. Oh, look! A button!” She stoops and picks up a small button and holds it out for Diori.

Diori frowns but forces herself to smile again when the button is given to her. “This isn’t it, either.” She tosses it and looks around. “Ooh!” She dislodges a still sparkling ring from the dirt and wipes it off. “Pretty!” She tries it on but her smile falls when it’s too big for her small fingers. She holds it out for Alisbeth to take instead.


	16. Chapter 16

Anarchaia gives a longing glance at the little girl then sighs, turning to look at the sky instead. “Plenty of time for that walk,” she says with a grin no one can see.

Koltira nods. “Right. It’ll take some time to get there on foot.”

Anarchaia steps down the rubble to stand beside Koltira, offering a sympathetic smile. “Sorry you had to relive that. This was a bad idea.”

Koltira sighs, holding back the desire to kiss her while in the presence of the others. “No. It’s fine, really. It kind of…felt good…to finally get it all off my chest. Thank you.”

Anarchaia tilts her head and makes a face beneath her mask. “As long as you’re happy.” She picks up a broken hilt as they pass and examines the dirty steel. “Where to first?”

“You wanted me to show you where I spent the decades before the war. That’s An’owyn. It’s a temple in the southern forest for Quel’Thalas.” He thinks a moment. “Though, don’t they call it the Ghostlands now?”

Anarchaia nods. “I believe so. Sounds _haunting_.” She wiggles her fingers menacingly.

Koltira gives her a painful smile. “Wow, Ana. Just wow.”

The mage chuckles and skips ahead to turn and talk while waking backward. “You find my puns _ghastly_?”

Koltira slaps a hand over his sternum. “Oh gods, no. Please. Stop. It hurts.”

Anarchaia pokes at her own cheeks as she grins. “Am I boring you to _undeath_? Should I _decease_ and desist?” She titters and turns back around. “Okay I’m done. Sorry.”

“Good, you should be sorry. That was bad. Those were all bad. I can’t believe you even said any of that.” He shakes his head. “Just awful.”

“Hm. Maybe I’m not _that_ sorry. I’d need some convincing.” She clasps her hands behind her back and grins.

Koltira shoves Anarchaia into another doorway and stands near her so her back is pinned against the wall. “How much convincing do you need?”

The mage gives a short chirp of surprise then titters up at him. “We’ve both already found out you’re bad at convincing me to do things.”

“Oh, am I?” Koltira asks. He leans closer to her and sets a hand at her waist. “How do you know I was even trying?”

Anarchaia smirks and bites her lip, bringing a hand up to rest on his forearm. “Because it seemed like you were. Perhaps I was mistaken…or perhaps I wasn’t.”

Koltira leans down and hooks a finger under her mask, pulling it up to reveal her blue lips. “Perhaps we’ll never know.” He sets his lips to hers.

Anarchaia hums into the kiss, arms weaving under his to grab onto his torso. She smiles up at him. “Okay, you win.”

Koltira laughs. “That easy? Really?” He gives her one quick kiss then sighs. “Would you like to get going or do some desecrating of old ruins?” He gives her a sly wink.

Anarchaia covers her mouth as she laughs. “As much as I’d love to give you some happier memories of this place, I’m almost certain we’d be caught.” She takes his hand. “Ghostlands?”

Koltira smirks. “You only get caught if you’re too loud. But if you insist, let’s go to the Ghostlands.”

“I’m no good at that,” Anarchaia says with a smile, then skips through the rubble toward the entrance.

“I’m aware,” Koltira says on a quiet breath. He follows after her.

Anarchaia stops to pick up a brightly colored butterfly then sets it on her shoulder. “This place, even in ruins, is still more beautiful than most places I’ve been.”

~ * ~

Grimory turns to Taveth. “Get all that?”

Taveth looks up at Grimory, his spectacles pushed to his nose again. “Hmm? Oh, yes. Thank you.” He returns to his notebook, where he is sketching the ruins across two clean pages.

Grimory glances between Taveth and Anarchaia and grins. “You book types like other book types, yeah?”

Taveth turns and cocks an eyebrow at the demon hunter. “Hmm? What do you mean?”

Grimory smirks. “That’s the girl I mentioned earlier. Very smart. I bet you two would get along famously. You don’t got a girlfriend, do you?”

Taveth cranes his neck to look at Anarchaia, pushing his glasses to the tip of his nose to look over the lenses. “I’m sure reading her research would be fascinating. Do you know what she studies?” He returns to his drawing, then says offhandedly. “No. I haven’t got a girlfriend. I’m honestly not sure what my relationship status has got to do with anything.” He purses his lips at his sketch.

Grimory narrows his eyes at Anarchaia’s slowly minimizing form. “She’s a scholar like you. She studies everything. She knows almost every language, you know. You should, ah… hang out with her sometime.”

Taveth hums as he turns his page to draw another section of the ruins. “Fascinating… Hmm? Oh, uh. I don’t know. I’m sure she’s a busy woman. But I’m sure if she found the time we could have an intriguing conversation. Though, I _do_ know every language. Fluently.”

<<Every language, you say?>> the Illidari hisses in Eredun as he brushes some dirt off a half-buried tapestry.

<<I didn’t stutter,>> Taveth replies in Eredun, his accent perfect. “Little bit of a scholar in you, then?”

Grimory lifts his brows and shakes his head. “Nope. Just half demon.” He picks up the tapestry and examines it. “I’m more of a do-er than a reader.”

Taveth leans in close to Grimory to examine the tapestry as well. “Fine elven craftsmanship. And I understand about the doing part. While I prefer to research in the quiet of a library, I do love a good hands-on investigation.”

Grimory drapes the tapestry over Taveth’s face. “Can’t get any more hands-on than this, yeah?”

Taveth pulls the tapestry from his head and lays it down respectfully. He then goes about tidying himself up. “Had me going there for a minute.” He blows the grime from his glasses, then uses a clean handkerchief to wipe the lenses. “If you’ll excuse me, I have ruins to investigate. Go…pick on your little friend or something.”

“Thought I was already doing that,” the Illidari says with a laugh and tucks his thumbs into his belt to walk in Alisbeth and Diori’s direction.

“Since when was I your friend?” Taveth mutters. He finishes dusting himself off, then returns to his notes.

“Guess you’ll have to find out what the Twisting Nether is like from some other demon, then.” He waves a hand as he trots away.

Taveth cocks an eyebrow behind him to watch the demon hunter go, then sighs. “Me and my stupid mouth.”

~ * ~

Stepping up to the girls, he smiles. “Whadya find?”

Alisbeth smiles at the ring. She tucks Koltira’s bow under an arm as she cleans the ring on her shirt. “Diori found a ring. Would you like me to hold onto it until your fingers grow into it? Or we can put it on a chain and you can wear it around your neck!”

Diori scrunches her face as she thinks. “I want you to have it. I already have the doll. It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t have anything.” She points a finger up into Grimory’s face. “We have to find something for you, too!”

The demon hunter chuckles. “That’s real kind of you, girlie, but I’d have nowhere to put it.” He tousles her hair.

“Why don’t we give the ring to Grim?” she asks, grinning up at him. “You’ve got fingers! That’s a place to put something.”

The Illidari grimaces. “I’m not really a _jewelry per_—okay, sure,” he grunts, giving up when Diori grabs his hand to shove the ring onto his pinky mid-sentence.

Diori smiles. “It matches your belt!”

Alisbeth giggles at the two, then returns to searching for a matching button.

Taveth pauses in the middle of a sketch to frown at the three. He closes his book and takes a step toward them, but changes his mind and returns to his drawing.

Diori glances back at Taveth and hops over to him. “We can find you something too, brother!” She leans over his paper to look at his drawings.

“Looking for something in particular?” Grimory says down to the death knight.

“A button,” Alisbeth replies simply.

Taveth smiles. “I would like that. Why don’t you find me something grand? A relic to put on the mantle at home.”

Diori bounces excitedly. “Something grand…” she mumbles, looking around frantically. She lifts up a chipped piece of pottery, then sets it back down, sticking her tongue out.

Grimory frowns at her shortness. “Everything okay?”

Alisbeth blinks at Grimory. “Everything’s fine! Why?” She catches sight of the retreating pair. “Oh!” She pulls out the broken bow. “Hang on, be right back.” She grins and takes off running for the two, taking care not to run into Diori as she passes. “Kolty!”

Koltira turns and cocks an eyebrow at the approaching death knight. “Something wrong?”

“Nope!” She skids to a stop in front of him. “Look what I found! Now you can finish it!” She holds the bow out on her palms and smiles.

He purses his lips at it, then takes the two halves. He shakes his head as he runs his fingers along the unfinished end. “No. I think it should remain this way. Thank you, Ali.”

She smiles wider. “Told you I’d be a good friend!” She takes off running back to Grimory.

“No, you di—” He sighs down at Anarchaia. “No, she didn’t.”

~ * ~

Grimory smiles at Alisbeth. “Returning a useless weapon? You’re so kind, Ali.”

Alisbeth cocks an eyebrow at Grimory. “It’s not useless! It’s something important to him! He _made_ that bow and carved at it over time to give it those patterns. Wouldn’t you want something so personal returned to you?”

Grimory scoffs and looks back at Taveth and Diori. “Of course. Especially if it’s by the woman I still have obvious feelings for.”

Alisbeth’s eyebrows pull up in confusion. “Oh, you still have feelings for someone?” She gasps. “Appletini? Oh. I’m sorry.” She picks at dirt beneath her fingernails. “You should tell her before it’s too late.”

Grimory can’t help but laugh at her ignorance and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “No, Ali. Not that.”

She cocks her eyebrow up at him. “Then what?”

Grimory shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. We should head back soon. If we can peel Taveth from all this junk, that is.”

Alisbeth furrows her brow. “Why do we need to go back? Can’t we stay longer? I mean, look at her! She’s having so much fun!”

Grimory crooks his mouth to the left and sighs. “All right. For her.” He sets himself on a large rock.

~ * ~

Diori notices something out the corner of her eye and picks it up through the dust and dirt. She turns the gilded hairpin over in her hands and waves it at Taveth. “Is this _grand_?”

Taveth polishes the pin with is thumb. “Oh, that _is_ grand. But I don’t think it belongs on the mantle. I think it belongs…” He twists up one side of her hair and secures it in the pin, “here. Simply beautiful.”

Diori blushes and giggles, then takes his glasses and puts them on. “I bet it’d look just as pretty on you.”

Taveth laughs. “Oh, you think so? Put it on me, then.”

Diori grins and pulls out the pin, reaching up to push back his feathery bangs and secure them with it. “Pretty!”

Taveth laughs and looks into her magnified blue eyes, the width of the lenses making her eyes appear as though they go farther out the sides of her face. “Well then I guess we’ll just have to fight over who gets it! I challenge you, Miss Nightheart, to a thumb war.” He holds out his hand.

Diori gasps and grabs his hand, puffing up her chest. “You dare challenge the reigning champion? Your insolence will not go unpunished!”

Taveth, as usual, lets Diori win all three rounds. “Okay! Okay! I yield!” He laughs and untangles the pin from his hair. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Diori sets her palms on her hips in triumph. “Place it in my hair, knave,” she says haughtily.

“Knave?” Taveth demands. “_Knave?_” He grabs her into his arms. “I’ll show you a knave, little princess.” He starts to tickle her sides.

Diori giggles and kicks wildly, slapping at Taveth’s arms. “How dare you?!” she laughs. “I’ll have your head for this!”

Taveth releases her and laughs. “At least put the pin back in my hair so that it looks pretty on your shelf.”

Diori smiles wide and clips the pin back in his hair. “Okay. Do you like it? It’s real pretty. Do you think it’s worth anything?”

Taveth laughs and pinches her nose. “Well, aren’t you the little entrepreneur?” He thinks on it. “You know, I bet it is worth quite a bit, actually. It’s in great condition, its make is extraordinary, and it’s from the ruins of Silvermoon. You really want to sell it?”

Diori scrunches her face and grabs his hand. “What do _you_ want?”

“I want you to do what you want to do with _your_ new hair pin.” He smiles and swings her arm back and forth.

Alisbeth curls onto a nearby rock. She glances at the demon hunter’s hand. “So, you like your new bling? Going to wear it forever?” She laughs lightly and casts her eyes to her daughter and cousin.

He inspects the ring on his pinky and chortles airily. “Since it’s for her…” he repeats. Grimory smiles up at Alisbeth. “Do you think we’ll ever be close?” he says blatantly.

“To each other? Or to Diori?” She sighs. “Either way, I don’t know. What do you think?” She doesn’t look at him, but keeps her eyes on the other two.

Grimory frowns and looks down at his feet, hesitating. “Both, I guess. What do _you_ think?”

Alisbeth scrunches her face at him. “I just said _I_ don’t know.”

Grimory scrunches his own face, mocking her. “It’s pretty obvious I’m skeptical, so why don’t you tell _me_ what _you_ think for a change?”

Alisbeth stares at the ground. “I don’t think she’ll ever be comfortable with me. You, maybe. I mean, you’re both living.”

Grimory frowns and shakes his head. “I think she likes you better.”

Alisbeth shakes her head. “You have horns and wings and a heartbeat. What’s not to l-…like?”

Grimory catches her slip and can’t help but blush a little. He examines the ring. “You’re doing a fine job, Ali. You don’t have to have a heartbeat to love someone, you know. Especially your own child.”

Alisbeth smiles and pulls her knees to her chest. “I think she adores you. I really do.” _She’s not the only one, is she?_ She looks away from him, the tips of her ears going a darker shade.

Grimory glances over at the two. He swallows and lowers his head to run a hand through his hair. “I hope so.”

Diori hums in thought, then pokes Taveth in the nose. “I want you to decide. I don’t need money. Would you be happy with it?”

Taveth wiggles his nose and smiles. “I think we should keep it. Because it really does look beautiful on you. The other ladies will be so jealous when you get older and walk about Stormwind with it on.”

Diori smiles and reaches up to pinch his nose playfully. “You really think the other girls will be jealous? You think I’ll find a man and we’ll marry?”

Taveth sighs and shakes his head. “I think you need to wait several more decades before worrying about boys. They’ll still be there when you’re older.”

Diori pouts and folds her arms. “But what if it’s the man of my dreams?”

Taveth laughs. “Then you be his friend until you’re old enough.”

Diori gasps again. “What if he’s a _prince_? Then I’d be a real princess!” She kicks her feet excitedly. “Or a cool paladin like c—like Ali was.” She reaches up to poke his forehead but misses entirely with the warped depth perception.

Taveth cries out and slaps a hand over his eye. “Okay, no more of these.” He takes his spectacles back from her, one eye squinted closed and tearing up after the poke. “A prince? Are you still on about Anduin? You know he’s _king_ now.” He wipes his stinging eye. “Why don’t you,” he untangles the pin from his hair, “go show this to Ali and Grim?”

“Sorry!” Diori says quickly, then squints and blinks rapidly when the glasses are off. She pouts and blushes. “No! And I know he is. Pri—King Anduin is too old for me,” she says with a sadness in her voice as she takes the pin and looks it over again. “But he _is_ very handsome,” she mumbles and trots over to Alisbeth, pin held up. “Ali, look!”

“You’re older than him,” he mumbles as she walks away. Taveth opens his leather journal and replaces his glasses on his nose. He frowns, his one eye still stinging and squinted closed. Something catches his eye just past a doorway and he heads for it, bumping the crumbling wall as he passes, slightly disoriented from lack of depth perception. He continues forward, unaware of the cracks forming in the ceiling and along the walls of the room he’s in.

Alisbeth gasps at the pin. “Oh, it’s _beautiful!_ And for the record, I think it looks better on you than on Taveth.” She winks at Diori.

Diori laughs and skips to Grimory. “Your turn!”

The demon hunter leans away and the corners of his lips twitch. “All right, a line needs to be drawn somewhere, missy. No one touches my hair.”

The little elf narrows her eyes and leaps at him, pin brandished. “But it’s your turn!”

He grabs her from the air and holds her tightly, laughing and messing her hair. “You heard me, you little brat.”

Diori kicks and pouts. “No fair!”

A piece of ceiling falls, narrowly missing Taveth as he crosses the room. He turns to look at the door. “Hello?” When he gets no response, he shrugs and stoops to investigate ornately crafted pieces of a broken vase.

Alisbeth laughs quietly behind her hand. “He’s very serious about his hair.”

Grimory glances around upon realizing they’re minus a body. “Where’d Taveth go?”

“He probably found something,” Diori grunts, still trying to reach his hair with the pin, tongue over her upper lip in concentration.

“He always did like to wander,” Alisbeth says, scanning the area for signs of him.

Grimory grabs Diori’s wrist to stop her and shrugs. “As long as he can find his way back. It’s not like we have a map of this place.”

“He could always just shout,” Alisbeth says on a chuckle. “You could just fly in and—”

_CRASH!_

Alisbeth flinches as part of a building caves in not far from where Taveth had been. “Oh, gods.”


	17. Chapter 17

Grimory quickly throws Diori across the gap between them, directly into Alisbeth’s arms. “_TAVETH!_” he shouts as he dashes over, silently praying for a response.

Diori clings to the death knight, tugging on her arms. “Is he okay?!”

Alisbeth catches the girl and wraps her arms around her. She runs toward the wreckage, but doesn’t go too close, afraid of what might be found.

Grimory walks through the settling dust, finding the freshly destroyed rubble. “Taveth?!” he calls, digging through the pieces of building.

Taveth comes to and squints around, realizing quickly he’s buried when all he can see is darkness with small shafts of light. He coughs. “H-here,” he says through more coughing. He shifts and realizes he’s stuck beneath a beam. “I’m pinned.” He presses his glasses up his nose and feels some sort of warm liquid. “I think I’m bleeding.”

“_Shit_,” Grimory breathes and picks up a particularly large chunk of wall. He groans under the weight but manages to toss it aside. “Keep talking to me,” he growls, trying to pinpoint Taveth’s location.

Taveth coughs again. “Um, I, uh, any subject in particular?” He falls into a coughing fit, his lungs slightly compressed and his face surrounded by the dirt of the ages.

“Well?” Alisbeth calls, trying to hide the panic she feels.

“Doesn’t matter,” he hisses, then jerks his head back toward Alisbeth. “He’s alive!” he calls, not wanting to give too much detail. Eventually he creates an opening large enough for him to squeeze through but still cannot see Taveth through the darkness and dust. “For fuck’s sake.”

Alisbeth sighs and hugs Diori tighter. “Oh, thank goodness.”

Taveth groans. “So, I found a broken vase in the corner,” he coughs, “I was just thinking about collecting the pieces to put it back together.” He coughs and takes a few breaths. “It was beautiful before, I think.” He goes quiet. “I just wanted a souvenir.”

Diori fidgets, wanting to do something, but knowing she’s too frail.

Grimory catches a glimpse of Taveth’s glasses as they glint in a beam of noon light. He moves the rocks to make way to him and ducks beneath the rubble to pull the beam off him. “Looks like the only souvenir you’ll be taking is a broken leg.” He takes note of the liquid on Taveth’s nose. He wipes it away with a pinky and examines it in the light. “And a broken pen. Can you move?”

A look of horror crosses his face. “My pen is broken? Where is it?” He runs his hands frantically over the dirt. He boosts himself to sitting and twists this way and that.

Alisbeth catches the look in Diori’s eyes and smirks. “Itching to help? I was always the same way. I bet when he’s out of there, Taveth would love a _big hug_ from his sister. That would help a lot.”

Diori nods but chews on the side of her thumb all the same. “I hope he’s okay.”

Grimory furrows his brow. “You’re less worried about your broken leg?” He bends over to inspect the damage of said leg. “Tell me if this hurts,” he says, reaching down to grab Taveth’s ankle and gently bend the appendage at the knee.

Taveth screams out and lurches to push Grimory away. “_Don’t do that!_”

Alisbeth runs forward with Diori. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Grimory recoils, releasing him. “All right! Very broken. Got it.” He turns to the narrow opening he’d made. “His leg’s broken!” he calls through the gap, then turns back to Taveth. “It’s going to hurt but I’m going to have to carry you out of he—” He pauses at the sound of crumbling rocks, eyes scanning the remaining floors above them.

Diori groans a cry at the word _broken_.

Alisbeth nods. “Don’t worry, Diori, I know how to make a splint.” She settles her on a hip so both can look at the pile of rubble; one hand strokes the girl’s arm in an attempt at comforting her.

Diori again nods, then turns to bury her face in Alisbeth’s chest plate.

Taveth huffs and finally looks down at his leg and the blood spreading across his pant leg. He gingerly raises his pant leg and groans at the splinter of bone poking out of his skin. “Yeah, very broken.” He ignores it and searches for his pen again. “I’ll be ready in a moment. I just need to find my pen. _Ha!_” He lifts the item to show the demon hunter.

Grimory winces at the sight, then jerks his head back as the pen is thrust toward him. “Congratulations.”

He turns to move more of the rubble to make a big enough opening for the two of them to fit through. As he does this, however, the floors above crumble. The Illidari perks his ears at the sound, eyes widening, and quickly spins around to throw himself over the wounded elf, wings spread to shield them from the falling debris. He flinches as multiple heavy stones crash against his spine and the back of his head. After a long moment of rumbling, he pauses to ensure that nothing else will fall. Opening his eyes, he stares down at Taveth, only inches from his face, and winces at the pain in his skull.

Alisbeth sets Diori down and runs for the collapse. “Grim! Taveth!”

Diori groans again, tears filling her eyes. She sits where she’s put and covers her face, peeking through her fingers.

“Is your quill okay?” he grumbles.

Taveth opens his eyes, which widen at the close proximity of the Illidari. A blush creeps hot up his neck into his cheeks, warming his ears. He clears his throat, hoping the blush doesn’t show, or at the very least he can pass it off as from being winded. “Y-yes…thank you, heh.” He clears his throat again. “M-maybe we should…” He inspects Grimory’s face, then looks away as though looking for an exit. “Heh. Yeah, we should go.”

Grimory narrows his eyes in annoyance, oblivious to the elf’s flustered tone. “That’s easier said than done. There’s a lot of stone on top of us right now.” He growls as he tries to push his wings back. With shaking muscles he’s able to relieve himself of most of the debris—enough to sit up. He looks about, finding themselves in near complete darkness. “We’re fine,” he calls, hearing Alisbeth on the other side. “Just some bruises.” He rubs at the back of his head, pretending not to notice the wetness in his hair.

Alisbeth grabs at a stone and pulls, but stops as the pile begins to shift. “I’m here. I’ll get you out. I just have to…not squish you.” She whines and claws at her scalp, trying to calm down and formulate a plan.

Taveth chuckles nervously, his eyes scanning the tattoos on the demon hunter’s muscular chest. “Heh. That’s fine, Ali. Take your time.” He swallows and jumps at the way it came out. “Uh, rather sit here a while than be flat, right? Heh.”

Alisbeth purses her lips. “Okay, first things first, Grim, do you know how to splint a leg?”

Grimory sneers at the question. “Of course I do. There’s not much for means of wood in here. Or cloth.” He glances around, eyes lighting in flames to brighten the area. “Never mind. Found some.” He grabs the broken wooden beam and breaks it in two over his thigh, then summons claws to shred it to a reasonable size. “You aren’t attached to these pants, are you?” He asks, grabbing Taveth’s tattered linen pant leg.

Taveth swallows, ignoring the huge claws long enough to have thoughts he decides he shouldn’t be having. “N-no. I suppose not.”

“Taveth, bite down on something. He has to shove your bone back in.” Alisbeth circles the pile, determining where they are by their voices and deciding to burrow sideways through the debris. She grabs a few reinforcement beams and stacks them to add support to the tunnel.

“No!” Taveth shouts at Alisbeth, his blush gone and replace by a ghostly white complexion. He turns back to Grimory and can only shake his head, silently pleading with him.

The demon hunter gives a helpless shrug as he tears off a sizable piece of cloth. “I’ve gotta, yeah? You want your leg to be fucked up for the rest of your life? Because that’s what’ll happen if I don’t reset it.” He rips the cloth into three pieces and hands one to Taveth. “Up to you, ultimately.”

Taveth takes the cloth and rolls it tight. “I suppose having a limp wouldn’t be very fun. Hard to do much when you have a cane…” He sticks the fabric between his teeth and whines, then nods rapidly to show he’s ready.

“On three, yeah? You may pass out. That’s okay.” He grabs Taveth’s thigh gingerly in one hand and places his palm over the exposed bone. “One…” Without another word, Grimory shoves the bone back into place, gritting his teeth behind his lips at the thought of how awful it must feel.

Taveth jerks upright as he screams, hitting his head on a piece of stone wall, but not caring as he grabs at Grimory’s hand. He grits his teeth tight as he hugs the demon hunter’s arm and presses his forehead against the muscle. After a few whimpers and some heavy panting, he lets the cloth drop from his mouth. He tries to say something, but instead purses his lips against the vomit threatening to spew forth.

Grimory pauses, letting Taveth take his time to recover. He pats the man on the back, offering up what little comforting he can. “Sorry.” He sets the two pieces of wood on either side of Taveth’s knee and ties them at the thigh and shin. “You gonna make it, bud?”

Taveth leans back, nodding as he presses his palm to where he’d hit his head. His hand comes away wet. He decides to say nothing about it until his leg is taken care of.

Alisbeth scoots forward a little bit at a time. “I’m almost there!” she shouts to the men. “Diori, sweetie, I need you to come and hand me a beam, please.”

Diori perks at her name and nods, quickly getting to her feet and bounding over. “Like this one?” she says, handing over a beam with a weight of as much as she can carry.

“All those little ones from the pile, yes. Just slide it right in.” She reaches her hand to the opening to wiggle her fingers, indicating where the beam should go.

Grimory inspects his work, then turns to the direction of the sound of rubble. “I…think it best we wait for Ali. I can’t see much even in this light and who knows how stable this is.” He glances over at the wounded man. “But if there’s any change in how you feel, you should say.”

Taveth nods. “Yeah, got it.” He closes his eyes.

Diori nods and hands over the pieces one at a time, face twisted in determination.

Alisbeth makes her way through the debris, slow and steady. She sees a familiar green glow and smiles as she moves a piece of wall aside. “Hey in here! Oh, it’s like a little fort! Are you sure you want out?”

Taveth tilts his head to look up at her. “Ali…” He reaches his hands over his head. “Just pull me out.”

“Right!” She grabs his hands and yanks.

“_SLOWLY_” He jerks as his leg his jostled.

“Don’t move!” Alisbeth hisses and waits as her tunnel shifts. Sand trickles into her hair. “We have to hurry.” She pulls him again and he hisses at the pain, but says nothing.

Grimory glances at the shifting debris as well. “Ali, I’m going to lift the rock above us. Pull him out as fast as you can, okay?” He gets to his feet, crouching and placing his claws on the ceiling. “And…_go!_” His muscles morph and mutate as he pushes upward with all his strength. The massive piece of stone above them lifts several feet off the ground, making their opening to the tunnel larger.

Taveth screams as Alisbeth pulls him with one hand and uses the other to gain momentum. Once out of the tunnel, she sits back on her rear and pulls him the rest of the way.

“Come on, Grim, hurry!” she shouts.

Grimory groans as the weight threatens to crush him. With his final ounce of strength, he leans back to let the rubble fall behind him, then takes the opportunity to crawl through the tunnel Alisbeth had made as quickly as he can. Once out, he skids on his knees as the path behind him collapses. He breathes heavily and laughs, wiping at his forehead with a palm. “Oh, gods. That was fun.”

Diori wraps her arms around Taveth’s neck, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “Brother!”

Taveth laughs nervously as he eyes Grimory. “Yeah…fun…” He keeps his arms wrapped tight around Diori and strokes her hair. “I’m fine, Diori. Grim saved me.” He gives the other man a nervous half smile, then turns away as he feels his blush threatening to return.

Alisbeth leaps on Grimory. “You’re okay! You saved my cousin!” She turn her head to whisper in his ear. “I’ll thank you later.” Then she sets an excited kiss on his lips.

Acting on impulse, Grimory returns the kiss, still panting through his nose. He winces when he pulls away, rubbing at the back of his head. He brings his hand back around and frowns at the blood covering his fingers. “I guess I was hit harder than I thought.”

Diori smiles at the sight of her parents kissing, but quickly frowns when she sees the bloodied splint on Taveth’s leg. “Does it hurt?”

Alisbeth frowns, forcing him to turn his head so she can look at the back. “Lucky for you, we know a little healer-in-training. Though, if she turns you into a murloc, you’re on your own.”

Grimory shakes his head. “I don’t wanna burden her with that. Just let it heal. I’ll be all right.” He stands and stretches, grimacing at the pain in his bruised back.

Taveth’s injuries catch up with him. He winces at his leg and brings his hand up to the bleeding bump on his forehead. “Yes. I’m sure the longer I wait, the more it’ll hurt.” His hands shake as the realization hits him that he’d just nearly died. “I’m—I’m fine.” He removes his spectacles, finally noticing the crack in one lens, then places them in his bag. He takes the strap from his shoulder and scoots it away. A moment later he grabs Diori in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been thinking!”

Diori sniffles, tears again threatening to spill forth. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” She reaches up to place a hand on the bump. She says a few words and white, sparkling light fills the space between them. The bleeding stops and the wound closes, but the lump remains. “Sorry. That’s the best I can do…”

Taveth smiles. “It’s more than enough.”

“Okay, Taveth, time to get you to a healer. We’ll have to take you back to Dalaran. Unfortunately, the blood elves can’t heal you.” Alisbeth wraps his satchel over her shoulder and boosts him to standing. “Something about the hatred of the factions blocking the effects of healing.” She grins at him.

Taveth hops on his good foot and winces as the other moves. “Yes, it’s part of the declarations.” He whimpers as he hops again. “No aiding the enemy. A sp-hell was cast a-ND—_slow down!_”

Grimory rolls his eyes and scoops Taveth up over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, we know.” He makes his way back toward the giant wooden door.

Diori follows quickly behind, doll in hand and pin in her hair. “Can we get cinnamon apples when we get back?” she grabs Alisbeth’s hand. “Maybe they’ll help brother to heal.”

Taveth turns a dark shade of red as his face floods with heat sooner than the blood would rush to his head. “I’m q-quite all right, Grim. No need for…” He blinks several times at the new view of Grimory, then closes his eyes and shakes his head. “This is highly embarrassing…”

“Oh!” Alisbeth smiles down at Diori. “I bet cinnamon apples will heal him right up! After we stop by the first aid shop, of course, ‘cause I don’t think apples do bones.”

Grimory stops to rap on the wooden door with his knuckles. “You should be more embarrassed about getting caved-in in a decrepit building.”

Diori thinks for a moment, then holds up a finger. “And a glass of milk!”

“Yes, well, only we know of that. Pretty soon all of Silvermoon will be staring at my posterior as you carry me like a grain sack.”

Alisbeth snorts at Taveth’s complaints. “He’s good at carrying grain sacks, I’m sure. Though, I’m not so bad myself.” She laughs and returns her attention to Diori as the door raises up. “Ooo, milk is a great choice.”

“Why am I not surprised?” the sleepy guard says in regards to their wounds as they step through the gate.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?” Grimory retorts, scoffing. “And I’m sure all of Silvermoon would be pleased to see your ass,” he jokes, laughing. “All its citizens look like women.”

Taveth growls at Grimory, but decides to say nothing. He puts his palm against the demon hunter’s back to prop himself up so he can look the guards in the eyes. He waves his hand insistently. “No, no. I didn’t do this intentionally! Believe me, I’m upset about it. I would never do anything to disrespect your beautiful cit-_eee!_” His hand slips on Grimory’s skin and slides straight to his buttocks. Taveth removes his hand as his embarrassment deepens. “I am _so_ sorry.” He stumbles over more apologies, then shuts his mouth and folds his arms to pout.

Alisbeth grins at the guards. “Thank you _so_ much! We had a nice history lesson in there. I’m so happy my family could finally see our home.” She beams down at Diori. “Tell the nice men thank you!”

Grimory straightens at the touch, then snerks a laugh. “If you’re gonna get handsy you should buy me dinner, first.” He nods his gratitude to the guards and heads off back down the neatly paved street.

Diori looks up into the second guard’s face behind his helm and smiles wide. “Thank you! And thank you!” she says, turning to the tired man who, for a brief moment, shows a glimmer of emotion in his dead eyes, and nods. The small girl bounds off after Grimory and pulls Alisbeth along with her.

Taveth clears his throat. “Noted… So that, uh, really works on you? I mean… Heh. I meant, just, in general… Other people…” He casually inspects his fingernails as though anyone can even see his face to catch his slip.

Grimory furrows his brow, ears pulling back. “Are you asking me on a date?”

His eyes widen. “N-no. I’m… I, uh… I don’t get out much and I-I…was asking advice. Heh.” He purses his lips and busies himself with retying his hair as best he can while dangling upside-down.

“I’m not the person to ask about that,” Grimory says with a chuckle. “I don’t really date. Ale and a night at an inn is my idea of a relationship. But if I were to give any advice, I’d just tell you to be yourself. Anyone who doesn’t like you that way isn’t worth your time, anyway.”

Taveth deflates slightly, letting his arms dangle over his head. “Oh. Well, that’s certainly…disappointing.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows, ears pulling back again. He then grins and pats the back of one of Taveth’s legs. “You’ll find the right guy someday, Tav.”

Diori races forward to chase an enchanted broom down the road. “Look! It moves by itself! How can we do that? I’d never have to do chores again!”

Taveth’s face heats and his eyes bug. “I beg your pardon!” He struggles to push himself up enough to see Grimory’s face, but continues to lose his grip as he stumbles over his words. “I-I will not ha-ave assumptions made ab-about—” he gives up and returns to dangling, “my character. You… You don’t know anything about me and—”

Diori races forward to chase an enchanted broom down the road. “Look! It moves by itself! How can we do that? I’d never have to do chores again!”

“Hey, Taveth, ever research how brooms go on their own?” Alisbeth asks, tugging on his hand.

He sighs in relief. “I’ve actually never seen any until today. I’ll look into it though!” He turns to give Diori and upside-down smile.

Diori smiles back after a failed attempt to catch the object. “We have a good story to tell father after today.” She stops. “He’ll probably be mad about your leg, though.”

Grimory shrugs off the man’s flustered response and continues on, eyeing the men playing dice in the shade.

Taveth’s smile turns into a frown. “N-no! We can’t tell him about the cave-in!”

Alisbeth laughs at his panic. “Uncle Falren would _kill_ you!” She bends down to grin maniacally at him. “Hey! You should tell him! Then I’ll turn you into a death knight and we’ll live forever together. Doesn’t that sound _wonderful?_”

He shies away from her excitement. “Not…really. No. I’d like to stay living.”

Alisbeth’s smile falls and is replaced by a glare. “You don’t love me anymore?”

“N-no! That’s not…! I-I just want to, you know…live? _Oh, gods, don’t hit me again!_”

Alisbeth punches him in the ribs and stalks to lead the group, her arms folded tight over her chest.

“Ow.”

Grimory barks a laugh. “Come on, Ali, he’s already worse for wear.”

Diori bounds forward and pouts, punching Alisbeth weakly in the cuirass. “No more punching! It’s mean!”

The guards regard them once again as they approach the bridge leading to the palace. “I see you’re no good at staying out of trouble,” grumbles the one who had reservations of letting them pass earlier.

Taveth frowns. “I-I didn’t… It wasn’t… There was a vase! _Okay?_ I wanted to _fix_ it! _I_ didn’t know the building was unstable! I would _never_ ruin ruins. They are precious and should be preserved for—”

“Don’t make me hit you again,” Alisbeth warns. She smiles innocently down at Diori, then whispers do her, “I’m not really going to, okay? Just for you.”

“Whatever,” the guard says, sneering. “Just get out of here.”

Diori grins and grabs Alisbeth’s hand again. “Thank you!” she sings to the guards and jumps through the portal.


	18. Chapter 18

Grimory carries Taveth through the portal back to Dalaran and turns to wait for Alisbeth and Diori. “Sorry about the vase. At least you have a memory, yeah?”

He purses his lips. “I…got a few pieces, actually.” He looks around. “Oh, good, all of Dalaran gets to stare, now.”

“Would you rather walk?” Grimory grunts.

Taveth peeks around Grimory to see the busy street full of people practically tripping over each other. He quickly weighs the pros and cons. “As much as I’d like that, I think it might do more harm than good.”

Alisbeth yipes as she’s yanked through the portal, then laughs when she bumps into Diori on the other side. “Want to go to the healer with them or should we go get a good table at that restaurant?”

Diori looks between Taveth and the café table peeking around the corner down the street and fidgets. “I _am_ hungry…”

Alisbeth taps a finger on Taveth’s scalp. “Hey, Diori is hungry. Mind if we meet you at the café?”

He’s not sure if he should frown or not over the prospect of time alone with Grimory, even though it’s just to be healed. Then certain facts come to mind and he chooses to frown. “If she’s that hungry, yes. Go on ahead.”

Grimory turns and trots up the ramp. “To the infirmary, then. We’ll meet up with you guys after. Shouldn’t take too long.”

Diori jumps with excitement, then runs forward to give Taveth a kiss on the cheek. “Feel better, brother!”

“I will.” He laughs. “As long as Grim doesn’t bite.” He makes a silly face at her just before she’s gone from his sight. He sobers. “So, uh, you _don’t_ bite, right?”

“Not without consent,” the Illidari says, grinning.

~ * ~

Alisbeth scoops Diori up and spins her around. “Time for cinnamon apples!”

Diori lifts her arms into the air. “Yes! And ice cream after?” She gasps. “Let’s get Taveth a _get well_ cupcake!”

The death knight laughs. “I think all of that is a fantastic idea.” She sits Diori at the table and hails a waiter, taking her own seat when he notices them.

The waiter trots over, hands behind his back as he grins. “What can we get you lovely ladies this fine evening?”

“Cinnamon apples!” Diori says excitedly. “Aaaand…milk.”

The man nods and turns to Alisbeth expectantly.

Alisbeth smiles. “Nothing for me, but I know my friend will probably want an ale and a T-bone steak. Oh! And we need a get well cupcake.”

The waiter raises his eyebrows and looks up from his notepad, amusement in his eyes. “I’m sorry, a _get well_ cupcake?”

Alisbeth grins and looks at Diori. “Her brother was injured and we want to get him a get well cupcake. To make him feel better.”

The waiter gives a nod of approval. “I think I get you. I’ll see what we can do.” He winks at the two and disappears into the café.

Diori grabs a leaf on the table and begins picking it into shapes. “Why did you kiss Grim if you’re just friends? Do friends kiss like that?”

The tips of Alisbeth’s ears grow warm. “No, I do not kiss friends like that. But he is my friend. Maybe I just got a little excited.” She gives a crooked, nervous smile.

Diori smiles impishly and gives Alisbeth a sideways glance. “You liiike hiiim~” she sings, then punches her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

Alisbeth bites her bottom lips. “Okay, as long as you don’t go snitching on me.” She reaches over to pinch at Diori’s side.

Diori yelps and giggles, then jumps excitedly when their food arrives. She immediately puts a steaming hot apple in her mouth. “_Mmm!_”

Alisbeth laughs and thanks the waiter, who sets the other plate and ale in front of her. “Oh, no, not mine. I don’t eat.” She scoots it to the open seat beside her and smiles at the man.

~ * ~

Grimory turns into the city infirmary and leans his free arm on the counter. “My friend here broke his leg in the name of science. Would y’all mind taking care of it for us?”

The Draenei woman behind the counter blinks and chortles. “Of course we can. Not for free, though.”

“Price don’t matter.” He sets Taveth down on the counter.

The woman comes around to examine the leg. She whistles. “Must have been some science.”

Taveth straightens indignantly. “It wasn’t science. It was historical research! Excavation of a significant time for our people!”

The woman and Grimory shoot one another a glance. The demon hunter folds his arms and leans against the counter. “You definitely need to hang out with Ana.”

The woman holds her hands over Taveth’s leg and it is encased in a glowing gold light. “This is a bad one,” she says as the flesh and bone heal. “You should be more careful.”

Taveth purses his lips at the Draenei, then at Grimory. “Little hard to do when she’s never around, wouldn’t you say?”

“She lives in the citadel. She’ll be around.” He turns to examine a table covered in medical supplies, lowering a his head to look at the jar of leeches.

The Draenei woman removes Taveth’s splint and gives his newly healed leg a pat. “Sadly, I’m not a tailor.” She smiles and stands, then glances over a Grimory. “By the _Light_,” she chirps in surprise, rushing behind him and grabbing his hair, pulling at it gently.

“Hey, don’t—_aagh!_” The demon hunter growls in pain. “What are you doing?”

“I can see straight to your skull!” She pushes open the gash in his scalp until pearly white shines through. “Men. I swear,” she hisses, healing his wound as well.

Taveth blushes and hangs his head. “I’m sorry, Grim. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you weren’t saving my stupid hide.” He hops from the counter and stares down at himself. “I need to run to my room for a shower and new clothes, I think.”

Grimory shakes his head, touching the closed wound with his fingers and laying some gold on the table. “Don’t be. I’ve died before, remember? This is nothing.” He nods to the healer, then turns to the door. “Do what you gotta do. We’ll be at the café.”

“Thank you so much,” Taveth says to the healer. He chases Grimory out the door. “I have more questions about your deaths, if that’s okay?”

Grimory glances down at the man’s exposed leg and pats him on the shoulder. “Perhaps after you’re finished cleaning up. You look like a vagabond.” He laughs.

Taveth looks himself over again and sneers. “Yes. Quite. I’ll meet you at the café.” He jogs off to Greyfang Enclave.

Grimory nods and makes his way to the café, setting himself beside Alisbeth. “Oh gods, this smells so good. Did you order this for me?”

The waiter smiles. “That cupcake you requested will also be out momentarily.”

Alisbeth gives the demon hunter a wry smile. “No, I ordered it for _me_. You know how much I love chewing on bones.” She laughs and watches Diori enjoying the apples. “You know, I really like cinnamon, too.”

Still chewing, Diori holds one out in her fork. “I know you don’t have to eat, but you still _can_, right?”

Grimory sets a hand on Alisbeth’s thigh beneath the table and smiles as though he’s doing nothing. “Thanks, Ali.” He sips his ale and takes up his silverware.

Alisbeth smiles and takes a small bite of the apple. “_Mmm!_ This has enough cinnamon for me to taste! I like to take the sticks and put them in my drinks.” She smiles at Grimory as she swallows the apple. “You living have to eat sometime, right?” She winks at him.

The Illidari chews on his steak and shrugs a shoulder. “I guess we do.” He swallows. “So what’s this I hear about a cupcake?”

“We’re getting Taveth a get well cupcake!” Diori says with a grin. “To make him feel better!”

Grimory smiles and reaches over to rustle her hair. “You’re a sweet kid, Diori.”

Taveth catches his reflection in the mirror as he finishes adjusting the collar of his shirt under his vest. He makes a face and immediately goes to change. After three changes, he stops himself. “What am I doing?” He tosses the new change of clothes onto his bed and shoves his feet into his boots as he finishes tucking in his shirt. He runs a comb through his hair and secures it in a tie behind his head, then slips his spare pair of glasses into his satchel and rushes to meet the others at the cafe.

Alisbeth bites her lip to hold back some of the wide smile spreading across her face. “I think she gets it from that farmboy I once met.” She casts a timid smile at Grimory.

Grimory gives a loud _pfft_ and takes another bite. “He wasn’t sweet. Just a sucker for pretty eyes,” he says through chews. “And a nice ass.”

Diori blushes and covers her own ears, cheeks full of apple.

Alisbeth’s mouth drops open in shock. “Grim!” She slaps him on the arm. “Don’t make me take that steak away.”

Taveth takes the last seat at the table and cocks an eyebrow. “Why are you covering your ears?” he asks Diori.

“Bad words,” Diori whispers, pointing at Grimory.

Grimory laughs and feigns pain, rubbing his arm. “She’s fifty! She knows not to say those things.” He finishes the meat off his steak, followed by the ale.

Moments later the waiter returns with a cupcake large enough for three people. The words _Get Well_ scrawled atop with icing and a sparkler throwing cinders. “Your get well cupcake,” he says, setting it at the center of the table, as he’s unsure who it belongs to.

The tips of Taveth’s ears turn a light pink. Alisbeth snorts a laugh into her hand.

Taveth’s gaze finds Diori. “Your idea?”

Diori nods emphatically. “Mmhm!”

Grimory smiles at the elf’s discomfort. “Happy Get Well,” he snerks, ordering another ale before the waiter can shuffle off.

Taveth smiles wide and eases into his seat. “Thank you, Diori. I love it.”

Alisbeth reaches out and takes a swipe of chocolate frosting, then pokes it into her mouth. She makes a face and wipes the rest on a napkin.

Diori grins. “I didn’t think it’d be so big. Can we share it?” She sucks the cinnamon from her fork.

Taveth checks that her apples have been finished. “Of course you can! I, however, would like to eat first.” He orders salmon with herbed potatoes and a side of asparagus, then smiles back at Diori.

Alisbeth purses her lips across the table. “I’m sorry. I would have ordered for you, but I didn’t know what you like.”

He waves her apology away with a hand.

Diori quickly scoops up a chunk of cake with her fork and holds it out for Grimory. “You have some, too!”

The demon hunter shakes his head, picking the clean bone up from his plate. “I don’t do sweets,” he says, crunching the bone in half and chewing on the splinters. “Sensitive teeth,” he jokes with a sharp grin.

Taveth dives into his meal as though he hasn’t eaten in a week. He moans in approval at the flavor of the salmon. “Highmountain Salmon never fails to impress me. I don’t know what it is, but I swear I’ll find out. Maybe something to do with the water.” He shoves another forkful into his mouth and groans again. “Gods, it’s so good.”

Alisbeth chuckles. “Should we get you and the salmon a room?”

Taveth blushes and stares at his plate. “I’m sorry. It’s just… Well, you’d have to try it to understand, and…”

“And I’m too dead to taste it. Sorry, Tav, you’re on your own.”

“You struck me as a fish person,” Grimory says as he nods, throwing the rest of the bone in his mouth.

Diori furrows her brow, chewing on cake, then smirks. “He’s not a fish person. He doesn’t even have gills!”

Taveth chuckles and rushes to swallow to educate her in the term.

“It’s just a term used when somebody likes something. You’re a cinnamon and apples person. I’m a candy cane and dalapeno person. Grim is a steak person.” Alisbeth smiles. “Get it?”

Diori scrunches her face. “Yeah, joking. A fish person would be cooler, though. Like a murloc!” She shoves more cake into her mouth.

“Murlocs are more fish than people I’d say,” Grimory says thoughtfully. “Definitely more animalistic.”

Alisbeth scrunches her face and shakes her head. “Um, no. They’re more frog than anything.”

“But they make fish noises! Like _mrgglglgl!_” Diori sucks some chocolate from her finger.

“Fish don’t make noises,” Grimory laughs. “Unless you’re skinning them. Then they croak like frogs.”

Alisbeth and Taveth blink at each other and silently decide to let these two have their moment.

The group continues on for a long while, prattling about this and that, odds and ends. Soon enough the lamps that line the street flicker to life and Diori frowns at them. “It’s that late already?” she mumbles in dismay.

Taveth sighs. “Diori, you still have that chapter on disease to read before bed.” He casts an apologetic gaze to the other two. “Sorry. She _is_ a student, above all else.”

Alisbeth nods emphatically. “Of course. I never would have become such a great paladin had I not studied. Go, please.” She reaches out to hug Diori.

Diori pouts and hugs back. “Okay,” she groans, then releases Alisbeth to hold her arms out to Grimory.

The demon hunter smiles and stands, walking around to bend and embrace her small torso. “Study hard, yeah?”

The little girl nods and smiles. “I will! I always do.”

Taveth hugs Alisbeth goodbye, then takes Diori’s hand and leads her back to their room in Greyfang Enclave.

Alisbeth smiles at Grimory. “Drinks at the Legerdemain? I started a running tab, by the way… You can get food or coffee or whatever you want. Any time. My treat.”

Grimory stretches, wincing at the bruising on his back. “Thought you’d never ask. Whiskey and cinnamon?”

Alisbeth jumps up in excitement. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” She grabs both of his hands and walks backward, dragging him across the street.

Grimory laughs quietly, allowing her to drag him all the way to the lounge. A number of people inside are already making merry, playing darts and cards, talking loudly over the crowd. “That bottle,” Grimory says to the elf behind the bar, pointing at a bottle of whiskey on the shelf. The man nods and sets it down. “And cinnamon sticks. Two.” He holds up two fingers and the man again obliges.

Alisbeth finds a long couch near the back and sprawls across it to claim it as she waits for Grimory.

Tossing the sticks into the bottle and replacing the cork, he saunters over to the sofa and, instead of telling her to move, sits on top of Alisbeth. “What a long day,” he sighs, draping an arm over the back of the couch.

Alisbeth giggles and kicks her feet. “Are you _quite_ comfortable?”

Grimory shrugs and shakes the bottle before biting off the cork. “I guess. This couch is kinda lumpy, though.” He takes a large drink.

Alisbeth giggles again and pinches at his butt. “I’ll show you ‘lumpy.’”

The Illidari hisses at the pinch and pushes more of his weight onto her. “It pinches, too. This place could really use some new furniture.”

Alisbeth snorts a laugh through her nose. “It’s about to start biting if you don’t hand over the whiskey! And maybe let me up…”

Grimory drinks again and taps his goatee in thought. “Hm. Hand over the whiskey…let you up. Hand over whiskey. Let you up. Hmmno, I’m not gonna do that.”

Alisbeth growls and grabs his arm, taking it to her lips to bite at his forearm.

Grimory grits his teeth at the pain but grins down at her. “You keep that up and I’ll be forced to return the favor.”

Alisbeth grins and laughs evilly against his arm. She bites harder, her eyes locked on his.

Grimory winces again, then stands to let her up. “All right. I’ve bled enough today, don’t you think?”

Alisbeth continues her evil laughter as she slides from under him and kneels on the couch beside him. “But I wasn’t the one causing it. I thought you _liked_ that.” She scoots in even closer, her face close to his. “What happened to you returning the favor?”

Grimory smirks and leans even closer. “Where would you prefer I do so?” He tilts his head to push his lips against her neck. “Here?”

Alisbeth hums a laugh. “Lower.” Alisbeth hums. “Lower… Much, much lower,” she whispers.

Grimory laughs and pulls away, handing over the bottle. “Perhaps in a less public setting.”


	19. Chapter 19

Koltira tucks the bow under an arm. “Right, so, Ghostlands would be that way.” He points the direction Alisbeth had gone. “Unless you want to take the scenic route?”

Anarchaia purses her lips in the other death knight’s wake. The butterfly flutters off. “Scenic route.” She turns and steps carefully through the rocks again.

He laughs. “As you wish.”

She pushes her hood up and kicks another pebble from her path.

His brow furrows. “Something wrong?”

The mage gives a reassuring smile and shakes her head. “No. Just happy to be alone again.”

“That makes two of us.” Koltira wraps his arm around her shoulders.

Anarchaia chuckles and brings a hand up to hold his. “You want to be left alone? You’d like me to go?”

He shakes her by the shoulders. “Alone with _you_.”

She hums and sets a finger on her chin. “Are you sure? You’re not bored of me?”

Koltira hisses through his teeth. “Swear to gods, Ana…I swear to gods.”

She jerks and flushes. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I just…worry…”

He rolls his eyes dramatically, but says nothing.

Anarchaia turns quickly to him and grins. “I’m kidding! I know you love me. You…do love me? Kidding! Kidding. Heh.”

Koltira leans down to whisper in her ear, “Ana, shut up.” He kisses the side of her head. “Now, on to things more fun than crippling self-doubt.”

Anarchaia smiles and pulls her mask down. “We should duel sometime.”

Koltira blinks. “Um…why?”

The mage turns and shrugs. “You don’t want to know who would win?”

He gives her a strange look. “You just want to incinerate me, don’t you?”

Anarchaia turns and hugs him tightly. “Why do you keep thinking I want to kill you? Who would make me happy otherwise?”

“Just about any other person that doesn’t have a heavy dose of self-loathing.” He shrugs.

Anarchaia reaches up and takes both his cheeks in her palms. “The people who hate themselves love the hardest. I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

The elf smiles down at her. “If you say so.”

Anarchaia scoffs and pushes his cheeks together before turning back to the ruins. “Have I ever lied?” She pauses. “To _you_?”

At the other end of the ruins, Koltira looks out at the bright area. “I suppose you haven’t…yet.” He chuckles, then frowns. “They’re so much like the withered… I’d heard about them, but… It’s hard to imagine that some of those wretched might have been someone I knew.”

The girl looks out over the same land and frowns as well. She sets a hand on the back of his cuirass. “Perhaps they aren’t suffering this way. I’m sure they still hunger but…there are worse pains to feel.”

He sighs. “I cannot agree or disagree with you, because I never felt the hunger of my people. Let’s go. And…be careful, they don’t look like the most mentally stable bunch.” He slips over the rubble and holds out a hand to her.

Anarchaia nods and takes his hand, stepping down. “So would you consider your death a blessing in disguise?” she chuckles. “Having to feed off runic power instead of magic. Perhaps I should become a death knight.”

Koltira cocks his eyebrow at her. “I don’t _feed_ off runic power, I use it to strengthen my abilities in battle. And I’m not sure… Maybe. Insatiable hunger for magic, versus insatiable lust for killing. Sort of a toss-up, wouldn’t you say?” He guides her along the wall toward a fenced area.

Anarchaia chuckles a lighthearted laugh. “I was only kidding, Mr. Serious. Though if I _had_ to choose…” She taps her chin again as though the decision is a difficult one. “I’d kill myself.”

Koltira hums in thought. “Good idea. I should get on that.” He winks down at her, then grabs her into one arm, pulling her closer to the wall as a wretched wanders nearer.

“Alisbeth tried to take care of that for you, already,” she says quietly, eyeing the monster as it saunters away.

“Ah, but that was for different reasons! Doesn’t count.” He takes her hand and pulls her along faster to reach the safety of Falconwing Square.

Anarchaia shrugs. “For me, I know there’ve been times where the reason didn’t matter.” She looks around the square when they arrive and gasps at a stand selling glittering jewelry. She bounds over to look.

Koltira joins Anarchaia and looks over the pieces. He points at a simple braided chain which holds an intricate silver pendant with a sapphire, pale as ice, in the middle. “I’ll take that one.” He hands over a fistful of gold.

The seller counts the gold. “This is—”

“Don’t care,” Koltira interrupts. He shifts his eyes at Anarchaia.

The woman’s eyebrows raise. “Ooohhh.” She giggles and hands him the necklace.

Koltira smiles at the mage and steps behind her to drop her hood and secure the chain about her neck. “For when I’m not around. Just stare at it and pretend it’s my eyes.”

“Oh, Kolt, you don’t have to…” The mage titters embarrassedly and touches the pendant. “It could never compare, however.” She kisses his cheek through her mask. “Thanks, love. I’ll wear it forever.”

“Until you get bored of me,” Koltira says with a laugh.

Anarchaia scoffs and punches his arm weakly. “So forever, then.” She thanks the vendor who smiles sweetly in response.

“If you insist,” the death knight says. He pulls her close and smiles as he guides her to a high archway that leads back into Eversong Woods. “Now, for lots of walking.”

Anarchaia laughs and pulls her hood back up. “You say that like I’m not prepared…or willing.”

Koltira chuckles. “I’m just making sure you’re committed to the cause.”

~ * ~

Anarchaia brushes her fingertips across the hanging branches of a willow as they pass beneath it. “This place is eerily beautiful. Maybe I’ll build my house here.”

Koltira forces a smile. “Oh, yeah? For the record, it wasn’t this glum when I lived here…”

Anarchaia tilts her head to look at him a few feet behind. “I’m sure it wasn’t. In fact, I bet it was a lot prettier. But this is pretty, too.” She bends down to disturb a patch of long grass; numerous glowflies flutter angrily out and into the sky.

Koltira eyes Tranquillien in the near distance. He hesitates in his step. “It’s getting quite late, wouldn’t you say?”

Anarchaia notices the falter and stops to turn and look. “Are you afraid of the dark?” she jokes with a smirk.

Koltira stops and frowns. “You know I’m not. I just…” He purses his lips and stares at the small town again.

Anarchaia glances back over her shoulder at the buildings, then back to him. “You don’t want to go.”

Koltira swallows. “I guess I’m more apprehensive of visiting the place where my brother died, than where I died. I’m sorry.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow upward and trots to his side. “It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. We don’t have to go. I can bring us back to Silvermoon…”

“I, um… I could use a drink,” Koltira says.

The mage gives a reassuring smile and nods, holding out her hands. “Then a drink you’ll have.”

Koltira smiles and sets his hands in hers. “Ana, have I told you today that I love you?”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen slightly and she bites back her smile, her cheeks warm. “D-don’t let go.” The two disappear and reappear only feet from the gates of Silvermoon. The guards flinch as if to ready an attack, then recognize the two and ease again.

Koltira smiles and waves. “Hello again.”

The guard nods a greeting and sighs as though having been excited at the aspect of action.

Anarchaia heads through the gates and glances up at the statue as they pass. “Sorry I couldn’t get us closer to the portal. I’ve already forgotten what the room looks like. Heh.”

He shrugs. “That’s okay. More time in the city, at least.” He reaches out to take her hand.

The mage takes his hand in hers, her smile broadening behind her mask as they walk. When they do finally reach the palace and find their way back to the portal room, she stops and turns up to him. “I…didn’t show you everything, either.”

Koltira smiles endearingly. “That’s okay. Maybe one day we won’t be so damaged by our pasts that we can’t bring ourselves to revisit certain places.” He tilts his head at the portal. “Come on.”

The mage nods, leading him through the portal and back into the streets of Dalaran. She inhales the fresh air that one can only breathe miles into the sky. “So where to?”

He sighs, not wanting to say what he knows he needs to, to keep her out of trouble. “Do you need to check on Ali? Make sure she’s not…getting you in trouble?”

Anarchaia’s smile falls and she sighs, nodding. “Yes, I suppose so.” She turns in the direction of the Legerdemain Lounge.

Koltira slides his hand around her waist and pulls her to his side. “Just a quick check and then drinks. Nothing to worry about.”

“Whatever’d please you,” she says with a smile, turning into the lounge. Her smile again falters at the sight of Grimory and Alisbeth on the couch, the demon hunter biting at her collarbone. “Seems fine to me.”

“When did they get so…public about it? It’s really…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“Disconcerting?” Anarchaia finishes, turning around to sit at a bench outside instead.

Koltira shrugs. “I was going to say disgusting, but that works, too.”


	20. Chapter 20

Alisbeth grins and takes the bottle from Grimory. She takes a swig, then stops and shoves it back at him. She stands on the couch to wave her arms over her head. “Kolty! Come have a drink with us!”

Koltira stops and directs a pained expression to Anarchaia.

Grimory _tsk_s in annoyance and takes another particularly large drink.

Anarchaia gives him an unimpressed glance, glad he can’t see her face. “May as well,” she says, her voice brighter than her demeanor. “You did say you wanted a drink.”

“Oh, look! He has Arnie! _HI!_” She waves at the mage, then drops onto the couch beside the demon hunter. “It’s like a party again!”

Koltira sighs. “This is true. And they do seem to have wrangled the couch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that thing free.”

Anarchaia scowls, again glad she can’t be seen. She follows him over despite herself. “Hey,” she says casually, taking up a seat on the adjacent couch.

Grimory gives her a nod, bottle still to his lips. He swallows. “Enjoy your field trip?”

“I suppose,” she responds as she sits, folding her arms and crossing a leg over the other.

Alisbeth leans over and grabs Anarchaia in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re my friend. I really like you.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow as he sits on the other side of Anarchaia.

Guilt rings through her chest and the mage grimaces. She returns the embrace. “I appreciate you, as well, Ali.”

Grimory regards Koltira with a nod. “Buy you a drink?”

“I don’t care who pays, as long as it’s stiff an there’s a lot of it,” he replies.

Grimory stands and retrieves the other man a glass half full of deep amber liquid. “Apple juice, right?” he says with a grin, offering the cup.

Koltira chuckles. “Next, I want to play with my letter blocks.” He takes a hefty swig.

“Oh! There you are.” Taveth strides over to them, a shy smile aimed at the mage, who had yet to introduce herself. “I asked Diori’s tutor to watch her for a bit. I just…wanted some of my own time with you.” He smiles at Alisbeth.

Grimory sets himself on the couch again and raises the bottle in his hand. “Taveth! Drink!”

Anarchaia grins and gives a short wave. “‘Allo again.”

The tips of Taveth’s ears turn red. “I-I’m not really a…drinker.”

Alisbeth stands and shoves her cousin onto the couch beside Grimory. “Too bad. Invitation is binding.”

“I didn’t accep—”

She shoves the bottle at him to force him to take a drink. “Shut up and drink.”

He stares at the bottle. “What is this?”

“Whiskey with cinnamon.” Grimory watches him intently, convinced he won’t partake beyond being forced.

Anarchaia gives in and retrieves a glass of wine, then sets herself back in her seat. “Don’t let them peer pressure you,” she says with a chuckle.

Taveth coughs as the whiskey burns his throat. “It’s good, but…not my kind of drink.”

“What’s your kind of drink?” Alisbeth asks. “Come on, it’s on me!”

“Uh, I actually like Kungaloosh.” He fidgets.

“One Kungaloosh coming up!” She runs to the bar, then returns with a tall glass of a creamy green liquid.

“Fruity,” Grimory muses.

Taveth narrows his eyes as the tips of his ears turn red.

“Did you guys find anything interesting in the ruins?” Anarchaia says with genuine interest, pushing her mask up to drink.

Alisbeth drops down. “I hear Nessingwary _loves_ that stuff.” She takes a swig of the whiskey, then turns to Anarchaia. “We found a near death experience! Well, those two did. And a hair pin.”

Emboldened by his cousin’s off-handed defense of his drink, he smirks. “Well, if _he_ likes it, it can’t be all bad.” He turns away from the others and sets his drink on an end table to be forgotten, anyway.

Anarchaia shakes her head. “What happened? Were you attacked?”

Grimory gestures to the man beside him with a thumb. “Saw something he liked in a building. It collapsed.”

Anarchaia gives Taveth a concerned glance. “My gods, were you okay? More importantly, did you get what you went in there for?”

Grimory laughs. “Nope. Broke his leg. I went in to grab him but the second story fell in shortly after.” He pulls his ears back when her face jerks toward him. “I’m fine. Ali dug us out.”

“I’m fine,” Taveth says.

Alisbeth reaches around Grimory to poke him. “Yep! Still here!”

Grimory takes the opportunity to grab the bottle from Alisbeth and takes a drink. “A game,” he demands, holding up the whiskey.

“Cards?” Anarchaia suggests, sipping her wine and glancing at the ever-silent death knight beside her.

Taveth squirms beside the demon hunter, a pained expression crossing his face.

Alisbeth smiles. “Oh! I like cards!”

“Last time we played cards, there was more gossip than actual playing,” Koltira grumbles.

The Illidari laughs. “Thassarian isn’t here. Is there more about you you’re scared we’ll find out?” He snerks. “I suggest Truth or Dare, then.”

Anarchaia smirks at Koltira, memories flooding her. “I like that idea.”

Koltira shrugs. “I’m not afraid of my past or anyone knowing it, Grim. I’ll play.”

Alisbeth squeals and claps her hands, then snatches the whiskey from Grimory. “This sounds exciting! How do you play?”

“You’re asked to choose between truth or dare. If you pick dare, you have to do the dare or you lose and forever dishonor your entire family and self,” Grimory explains.

“Same for truth. Gotta be honest,” Anarchaia finishes. “Or live in shame.”

“Okay! Who first?” Alisbeth asks.

“How about the new addition to our party?” Grimory says with a grin, gaze on Taveth. “Truth or dare, Tav?”

“Why do I have to go first?”

Alisbeth reaches around to poke him again. “Cause you’re new to our circle! And it’s easier! We can just go down the couch. You, Grim, _me!_, Atmos, Kolty. Now choose before I hit you again.”

He groans. After a long moment of thought he sighs. “Dare.”

“I dare you to take that guy’s drink,” Grimory says, pointing to a burly human’s glass of ale. “And drink it in front of him.”

Taveth’s eyes go wide. “I’m not doing that. No.”

Alisbeth frowns. “But you have to. That’s the game!”

He shakes his head. “No.”

Koltira eyes him from the other end of the couch. “If he hits you, we’ve got your back.”

“It’s not a matter of _if_, and I’d rather not need to visit the healer again. I’m _not_ doing it.” Taveth tightens his crossed arms.

“I’ll step in before he hits you,” Grimory says, pulling the bottle from Alisbeth again and drinking. “Ana’s also pretty quick on her feet.”

Anarchaia gives a wave of her hand. “I mean I can _try_.”

Taveth scowls. “Comforting. I’m not doing it.”

Grimory throws up his hands and gives a noise of disappointment. “Fine. Be that way. He’s out. Can’t handle a challenge. Ali, truth or dare?”

Alisbeth slaps Grimory on the chest. “That’s not how it works! You’re next!”

Taveth stands and turns to Anarchaia. “It was nice meeting you.” He turns, shoving his hands into his pockets as he heads for the door, politely moving aside for others.

“Then I’ll take the dare,” Grimory grunts, then glances up at Taveth as he retreats. “Must not be his game.”

Anarchaia shoots Grimory an irritated glance and stands. “Or perhaps you’re abrasive and pushy” She follows Taveth out the door. “Hold on!”

Alisbeth slaps Grimory again. “She’s right, you know. That was mean.” She also runs after her cousin.

Koltira cocks an eyebrow at the drama, then takes a drink and goes back to minding his own business.

Taveth stops and turns to eye the women. “Sorry. I just…I’m not comfortable with that sort of dare. And…I don’t think Grim likes me.”

“He’s just an asshole,” Anarchaia explains, grinning awkwardly and not questioning his concern over Grimory’s approval. “Especially when he’s in the twilight stages of being drunk. I apologize on his behalf.”

Alisbeth smiles. “It’s true. I didn’t like him sometimes when we first met. This time, I mean. He was a lot nicer when he was…not a demon hunter.” She jumps in sudden excitement, her eyes wide. “Oh! Oh! Ashbringer! Can we add a thing to the game? A penalty shot!” She jumps up and down, holding the mage’s arm. “Refusing to do your dare or truth, shot of whiskey!”

Taveth purses his lips. “I’d…do that, I think.”

Anarchaia struggles to hold her footing as she’s jostled. “I don’t see why not.” She grins. “Seems too light a punishment to me, but for Taveth’s sake…”

Alisbeth grins and grabs Taveth in a hug. “_Please_ come back! I want to spend time with you!”

He laughs and hugs her back. “Okay. Fine. I’ll come back.”

Anarchaia claps her hands once. “Settled, then!”

Grimory shrugs and drinks. “Everyone’s so sensitive.”

Koltira glances at the demon hunter. “If ‘everyone else’ seems to have a problem, the problem isn’t them.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows at the man across the couch from him. “And here I bought you a drink.”

Koltira chuckles. “Yes, well, I also think people are over-sensitive.” He smiles as Anarchaia sits back beside him.

Alisbeth wraps an arm around Taveth and walks him back into the tavern. “Move over.” She taps Grimory’s knee to make him go to the end of the couch.

The mage returns the grin, crossing a leg over the other again and ever so slightly resting the toe of her boot against Koltira’s thigh.

Grimory narrows his eyes up at her but does as he’s told. He jabs Alisbeth when she sits. “You said it was my turn. I choose dare.”

Alisbeth sits beside Grimory and drags Taveth down between herself and Anarchaia.

He smiles shyly at the mage. “Hi. Heh.”

Alisbeth holds up her hand. “First, Taveth has to take a shot for refusing his dare. It’s a new rule. _I_ made it up.” She grins. “We need a shot glass!”

Anarchaia turns to Taveth at her opposite side and gives a welcoming smile. “_Bal’a dash._”

Grimory nods, the tips of his nose and ears gaining color. “I like this rule. Ana! A shot glass!”

The mage jumps at the sudden barking of her name, then conjures a small receptacle made of young bamboo in her free hand. She hands it to Taveth. “I got this in Pandaria. Do your best not to scratch it?”

Taveth smiles kindly. “Of course.” He takes the bamboo cup and holds it out. “Okay, Ali, liquor me.”

Alisbeth pours whiskey into the cup to the rim. “Drink up!”

He swallows the shot and grits his teeth, then smirks. “I dare Grim to go take that man’s drink…and drink it in front of him.” He gives a mischievous smile, but avoids looking at him.

Grimory snerks and stands. “Yeah, sure.” He makes his way over to the man sitting alone at his table, takes his mug, and downs the contents. The human cocks an eyebrow at him and sneers.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“Winning.” The demon hunter swallows and sets down a few coins before the man, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand as he returns to his seat.

The human makes a rude gesture in his wake, despite having his stolen drink paid for.

“Aww,” Alisbeth groans. “I was hoping he’d hit you!”

Taveth fidgets with the cup in his hands. “So was I,” he says, barely audible.

“You wanted me to get hurt?” Grimory responds to Alisbeth, acting offended. “I think I’ve been hurt enough today.” He takes the bottle again and drinks.

“Oh! It’s my turn! I choose tr- no d- no truth! No, wait, dare. Wait, _wait_, I choose truth. Wait—”

“There’s plenty of time for you to do them all,” Koltira says.

She smiles as though it hadn’t occurred to her. “Truth! I choose truth.”

Anarchaia taps her chin. “If you had the ability, and knowing what you now know, would you have more children?”

Alisbeth blinks in rapid succession. “Drink. I choose drink.” She grabs at the little cup in Taveth’s hand.

He holds it away from her, practically laying across Anarchaia’s lap. “No, no. I want to hear this one, too!”

“_I said I choose drink!_”

Koltira grabs the cup out of Taveth’s hand and holds it even farther away. “I want to hear this, too. Come on, Ali, would you have more kids?”

“I would have more _drinks!_” She launches across them to get at the cup.

Anarchaia leans back to give the man more space, a blush crawling up her cheeks. Eventually she’s forced to duck out of Alisbeth’s way as the woman leaps over, but ends up wedged between her and the sofa. “Just give her the drink,” she croaks, lungs crushed.

Grimory merely laughs at the sight, acting as though he doesn’t care about the answer.

Taveth reaches around the death knight and pinches just so at her hip.

She squeaks and rolls off the three. “Not fair!”

He laughs. “Good to see _that_ hasn’t changed. Now, come on, it’s a one-word answer.”

Alisbeth climbs back into her spot and pouts as she grabs the bottle from Grimory and takes a drink. “Yes,” she hisses, barely above a whisper.

Grimory lifts his brows but says nothing, bringing an arm up to rest on the back of the couch.

Anarchaia straightens and readjusts her robes, clearing her throat. “That wasn’t so hard,” she says with a hint of sarcasm. “I suppose it’s my turn?” She pushes back her hood. “Truth.”

Alisbeth wraps an arm behind Taveth. “Hey, where’s your drink?”

“I changed my mind.” He looks at Anarchaia. “I have a qu—”

Alisbeth grabs his cheeks to turn him back to her. “You look like you need a drink. Tell me what you want.”

He narrows his eyes at her, ignoring the demon hunter he can see at the corner of the couch. “Vodka tonic. With lime.”

She makes a face. “Gross. I’ll go get your nasty drink.”

Taveth turns back to the mage as Alisbeth leaves. “Hoping I’m not…out of place, but… Did you intentionally get involved with my cousin’s husband, or did it just…happen?”

Anarchaia’s shoulders raise slightly at the question and she gives a nervous titter. “I-I just…It wasn’t planned. We just…have so much in common, I…” She glances at Koltira as if for some sort of confirmation, then back to Taveth. “Unintentional. Heh.”

Grimory scoffs and rolls his eyes, fingers drumming against the fabric beneath them.

Koltira pats the mage’s hand. “It was completely unintentional, Taveth. Trust me.”

Alisbeth trots back and hands over a glass to Taveth. “Okay, question for Ajax—”

“I already asked it,” Taveth says quickly. “I asked if she has lived in Dalaran her whole life.”

The death knight makes a face. “Eew. Waste of a question. You have to take a drink as penalty.”

He shrugs and drinks, gritting his teeth against a cough.

Koltira blinks at his willingness to lie. “I suppose that means it’s my turn. Dare.”

Anarchaia thinks for a moment, then gasps and disappears in a flash of light. When she reappears, she holds in her hand a bar of floral soap. She leans in close to Koltira, bringing the bar to his face. “Lick it.”

Grimory snorts a laugh. “No fair. He probably can’t even taste it.”

Koltira blinks at her, then sticks out his tongue to lick the soap. “Mmm, yeah. Don’t taste a thing. Maybe put it in hot sauce next time.” He winks at her. “What was that stuff you made me drink last time?”

Anarchaia blinks and curses. “You’re right, I should have. Damn.” She sends the soap away. “And if I tell you, you’ll find a way to neutralize it, so no.” She sits, folding her arms.

“Better luck next time, Ana.” Grimory takes the bottle back from Alisbeth and inspects the contents, frowning.

“Your turn!” Alisbeth shouts, throwing an arm over her cousin’s shoulders.

He frowns. “I thought we were going down the couch?”

She laughs and pats his back. “Just because you moved, doesn’t mean we’re changing the order.”

He purses his lips. “Okay. I…I’ll just go with truth. Heh.”

“You ever kissed a girl?” Grimory says abruptly and half-jokingly.

Alisbeth snorts and elbows Grimory. “He’s older than _me._ Of course he’s kissed a—”

“No,” Taveth interrupts, staring at his glass.

Alisbeth leans away from him, her eyes wide. “What, really?” She gasps and bounces in her seat. “Oh my gods! I dare you to—”

“That’s not how the game works,” he says, clapping a hand over her mouth. “And don’t shout in my ear, please.”

She giggles. “Sorry.”

Grimory’s grin widens at the answer as though he’s unsurprised. “My turn then? I’ll go with truth as well.” He downs the rest of the bottle. “Since you were all intent on seeing me bleed last time.”

Alisbeth taps her chin, then takes a breath to ask something, but is cut off.

“Are you enjoying being a father?” Koltira asks quietly from the other end of the couch, his eyes trained on the empty glass in his hand.

Grimory’s smile wanes. Suspicions of why he’s asking race through his head. “Immensely,” he responds, stern eyes on Koltira.

Anarchaia fidgets and chuckles at the tension, but at the same time feels the familiar jealousy she gets at the mention of Diori. “Ali?”

She squints her face. “Um, I choose—”

Koltira stands abruptly and goes to the bar.

She cocks an eyebrow at him, then shrugs. “I wanna do a _dare!_”

Anarchaia gives her companion a longing look as he leaves. She conjures a small vial of red oil and hands it over to Alisbeth. “Drink this,” she says before standing and following Koltira to the bar. “Are you all right?”

“Just…getting a refill,” Koltira says. He sighs and closes his eyes. “I wanted her to be mine. I know you’ll hate me for saying that, but…” He scowls at the still empty glass.

Grimory knits his brow at the vial. “What is it?”

Alisbeth squints at it. “Red…stuff.” She opens the vial and sniffs. “Smells kinda like dalapeños!” In her eagerness she upends the whole vial into her mouth. She gulps part of it down, then stops. Her face turns a strange purple shade and her eyes stare desperately ahead. She spits the remaining contents out over the coffee table in front of the couch. She gives a soft cry, then tears out of the tavern, shoving people out of her way.

Taveth blinks after her and picks up the vial. He sniffs it. “Oh. That’s just _rude._”

Anarchaia shakes her head and rests a hand on his arm. “I’d have wanted the same—” She turns as Alisbeth rushes from the tavern, then again to the two on the couch. She rushes over and gasps at the empty vial. “She drank _all of it?!_”

Grimory holds back a laugh. “You kind of told her to. What is that shit? Is she gonna be okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” Anarchaia sighs. “It was capsaicin. The chemical that makes things spicy. I didn’t mean for her to drink it all.” She contemplates following her but knows she has no idea where she’d gone.

Taveth holds the vial out to the mage. “Let’s hope her mouth doesn’t blister. I mean it’s rare, but…I tricked a friend… His mouth was covered in blisters for days because he refused to see a healer.” He smiles at her. “I believe it’s your turn, now.”


	21. Chapter 21

Anarchaia straightens and glances quickly behind her at Koltira, then back. “T-Truth.”

“You ever gonna tell Koltira about you and the old man?” Grimory says without skipping a beat.

Anarchaia stiffens and purses her lips, fists balling at her sides. <<No,>> she says in Draenei.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows and shrugs. “Your choice.”

Taveth cocks an eyebrow at her. “Why aren’t you telling him about what old man?” He widens his eyes at his own boldness. “S-sorry. Heh.” He takes a gulp of his drink.

Koltira returns, a fresh drink in one hand, and the rest of the bottle in the other. He stops and eyes the mess on the table. “What happened here?”

Anarchaia opens her mouth to respond to Taveth, then flinches at the sound of Koltira’s voice. “I-I gave Ali a vial of oil. She drank it all. Heh.”

Taveth shakes his head as Koltira sits down. “She drank _half._ That’s the other half. Oh, and it’s your turn.” He clears his throat.

“Oh. Already? Huh. Whatever. Dare. Bring on more soap or whatever.”

Anarchaia quickly glances between Grimory and his sly smirk and Koltira and his overconfidence. She reaches down, grabbing the hem of her robes. When she pulls them up over herself, a perfect visage of Grimory stands in her place. She tosses the robes onto the couch and leans down to Koltira, hands on her hips. “Kiss me,” she says in the demon hunter’s low growl.

Grimory’s face turns a shade of pink but he covers his mouth to contain his laughter. “Oh, gods.”

Taveth chuckles quietly and takes a drink, averting his gaze from the replica of the demon hunter.

The death knight scowls. “Pass.”

Grimory can no longer contain himself and he laughs. “Aw, c’mon. That kinda hurts.”

Anarchaia purses her lips and pulls her ears back. “Didn’t take you for a passer.” She shrugs and turns to Taveth, a joking, fang-filled grin on her face. “How about you?”

Taveth returns his attention to his quickly emptying glass as his face turns a shade of scarlet. He clears his throat and tries to remain composed. “It’s not my turn.”

Koltira chuckles. “He’s right, Ana. You’re breaking the rules.”

Alisbeth comes running back into the tavern and sees the Grimory illusion standing in front of the others, but doesn’t look at the occupants of the couch. She leaps onto ‘him’ and plants a somewhat wet kiss on ‘his’ lips as her soaked hair drips down her face. “My mouth hurts!” she announces to ‘him’ with a smile.

Anarchaia leans back some in surprise, eyes wide. She blushes and places a hand over her mouth. “Ali, I’m not Grim,” she says through lips tingling with capsaicin.

Grimory barks another laugh, a tear welling in the corner of his eye. “Oh gods! No more, Ana! You’d better hurry before someone takes you to their room.”

Anarchaia scowls at him and, in a whirl of sparkles, turns back to her original form. She turns and points at Koltira. “Drink.” The couch puffs a sigh as she sits atop her robes and folds her arms.

Alisbeth remains standing as she looks between Grimory and Anarchaia. “Wait…I just kissed mage-face?”

“Yes, you did,” Koltira says, laughing. He swallows a full two fingers of whiskey, then smiles at Anarchaia. “That was worth passing. It really was.”

Alisbeth furrows her brow. “Wait…” Her eyes narrow further as though it’s not reaching her yet. Suddenly she jumps, spreading her legs in an excited half-crouch as she balls her fists and brings them to her sides. “I kissed a girl!” She jumps up in excitement, then lands in the previous position. “And I liked it! Bucket list item, checked!”

<<I would have made it worth your effort,>> the forsaken hisses in Gutterspeak, oblivious to Alisbeth’s rantings.

She runs over to the mage, sets her hands on her thighs and leans in close to the masked face. “Wanna do it again while you’re not in dude-form?” She waggles her eyebrows at her.

She jumps as the woman leans in close, cheeks turning magenta again. “I-It’s not my turn,” she says with a sheepish grin.

Alisbeth scrunches her face in a grin. “It wasn’t a dare.”

Taveth pretends to not understand the mage and takes a sip of his drink, his blush subsiding to only darken the tips of his ears from his growing intoxication.

Koltira taps Alisbeth’s shoulder. “It’s Taveth’s turn.”

“But—”

“Just sit down. Maybe someone will dare you to kiss her.”

Alisbeth’s eyes light up. “I’m only choosing dare until one of you does it!” She hops into her seat and grabs Grimory by the horns. “You’re the real Grim, right?” She plants a kiss on his lips. “My mouth hurts.”

Taveth wipes away the water dripping down from her hair onto his arm. “I choose d- t-truth. Yes, truth.”

Grimory hisses as his lips burn. “Ali, you can’t just kiss people after drinking pepper juice. Also, we need another bottle.” He smiles and kisses her again despite his words.

Anarchaia folds her robes up and places them in her lap. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

Taveth’s face turns red again. “I-I don’t really get out m-much…” He finishes his drink.

Alisbeth grabs his glass and the empty bottle, then stares at Taveth. “Yeah, you were always kind of boring. Running away for a day was the most exciting thing you ever did. And it was _my_ idea. Although there was that whole building incident in Silvermoon.” She grins and trots to the bar for refills.

Taveth’s neck crawls with heat as his eyes flick toward the demon hunter. “I suppose ruining ruins by being lost in my own world _is_ highly embarrassing. I’ve never done that before and I’m very ashamed.”

Grimory chuckles. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure the lot of us have done much more embarrassing things than that.”

Anarchaia can’t help but nod and shrug. “He’s right. Who’s turn? Grim?”

Grimory nods. “Dare. Don’t get me killed.”

Koltira smirks, an idea coming to mind as his gaze spots Alisbeth waiting at the bar. “I dare you to bite down on a dalapeño and hold it in your mouth for five minutes.”

Grimory scoffs and stands, making his way to the bar to stand beside Alisbeth. He gets the tender to give him a pepper, grins at Alisbeth, and sticks it in his mouth so it pokes between his lips.

Alisbeth smiles at the barkeep, then cocks an eyebrow at Grimory. “Either you’re trying to flirt with me, or you picked dare.” She winks and leads him back to the others.

Taveth accepts his refreshed drink and smiles coolly at the mage, the alcohol catching up to him and staining his cheeks a hot pink. “So, I hear you’re quite the scholar. Do you have a main focus for your research?”

Koltira eyes the high elf, deciding to keep a close eye on him.

Alisbeth leans around Taveth. “I choose dare again!”

“I was _talking_ to this _lady_,” Taveth scoffs.

“We’re _playing_ a _game_,” she scoffs back in the same condescending tone. She sticks out her tongue at him and he mimics the action.

Anarchaia blinks at Taveth’s sudden interest in her, then blushes and smiles. “Oh, no. It’s mostly anything and everything. I’m studying to be an Archmage so nothing is off the table.” Her smile softens. “Though it’s been so long I worry I’ll never be promoted.”

Grimory glances at Koltira and gestures to Alisbeth then the pepper in his mouth. Sweat beads at his temples and he wipes it away.

Koltira thinks as his gaze sweeps across the room. He spots a vaguely familiar face and smirks. “See that priest over there?”

Alisbeth follows his gaze. “The…sad one with the bangs and the black hair?”

“That very one. Go have her use her most powerful heal on you.”

Alisbeth’s mouth drops open. “You hate me. You both just…hate me.” She points at Anarchaia and Koltira. She chugs a few gulps of whiskey and stands, shaking out her hands in preparation. She stomps up to the blood elf priest and smiles cheerfully. “Hi! I need you to use your biggest heal on me.”

The priest takes her time to look up from her book and at Alisbeth. “Why do you need that?” she asks, her voice monotone.

Alisbeth gives a nervous laugh. “We’re playing truth or dare. It’s a dare.”

“Oh.” She stands and marks her place in her book, then closes it. The cover is black with a red rose. “Stay here.” She sweeps from the room as though her feet don’t touch the ground.

Alisbeth turns back to the others and contorts her face in confusion, pointing after the priest. She grabs the book and goes to Koltira. “This chick is off her fucking rocker. She’s reading—what is this?—_Undeath and You: How to Cope as a Corpse._ What the shit is _this?_”

Koltira laughs. “Oh, man, it _is_ her! She wanted to come to that thing we needed a healer for.”

Alisbeth shrieks and drops the book as a bright light surrounds her body. She falls to the floor and writhes, spittle forming at the corner of her mouth. The priest steps over her to pick up her book, a staff in one hand, her face as emotionless as ever.

“It has an overtime effect. It’ll go away in a few seconds.” She turns and floats away from them, back to her seat.

Grimory jerks forward in his seat, reaching for Alisbeth’s hand and calling her name through the pepper wedged in his teeth.

Anarchaia winces and brings her knees up to her chest to avoid the flailing. “And I thought the capsaicin was mean. It’s not Ali’s night.”

Taveth takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes away the spittle around the death knight’s mouth once she stops moving. “You okay, Ali?”

She frowns and rubs at her nose. She doesn’t answer, but climbs onto the couch and curls into a tight ball against Grimory’s side.

“Ali, I’m sorry. She said she hated healing. I didn’t think she had _that_ kind of power if she hated it,” Koltira says.

She doesn’t respond.

Taveth purses his lips at her. “Maybe you should stick to truth for a while.” He shoots Koltira a dirty glare.

Grimory spits out the pepper after he’s deemed it five minutes via the clock near the door, and wraps an arm about Alisbeth’s shoulders. “You gonna be okay? At least she didn’t leave any damage, yeah?” He nudges the bottle of whiskey into her hand.

Anarchaia clears her throat and chuckles quietly. “I-I suppose it’s my turn? I’ll take a dare. Heh.”

Taveth smiles and leans close to Anarchaia, wrapping an arm around to rest at her waist. He whispers against her mask, “I dare you to kiss Ali. Cheer her right up. A good one, too.”

Koltira narrows his eyes at the arm around Anarchaia, resisting slapping Taveth away as he leans in to whisper in her ear.

Anarchaia swallows, face growing hot at both the elf’s proximity and words. Her eyes quickly flick from Koltira to Alisbeth and she hesitates. “I-I…don’t…” She remembers Koltira’s refusal and his failure fills her with a determination. She stands and steps over, grabbing Alisbeth by the cheeks and pulling her lips to her own as Grimory watches with intense interest.

Alisbeth makes a noise of surprise through her nose, her eyes wide. When she realizes what’s happening, she smiles and wraps her arms behind Anarchaia’s head to pull the mage into a much deeper kiss.

Koltira stops, his glass halfway to his mouth, his eyes wide on the two and a swirl of confusion racing through him.

Taveth chuckles at what he’s done, glancing around at everyone and their stunned silence.

Anarchaia gives an equally high-pitched noise of surprise as she’s pulled in, then pushes away. “I-I didn’t agree to that!” she says, flustered with a hand over her mouth.

Grimory gives an incredulous laugh, glancing over the two at Koltira. “You should thank Tav for that one.”

Alisbeth giggles as she releases the mage. “Hey, hey, I got another bucket list item you could help me with.” She winks and bites her bottom lip.

Taveth laughs outright and drapes an arm over Alisbeth’s shoulders. “Oh, gods, I love you.”

Koltira finally blinks and grabs the bottle of whiskey to put more into his glass. He stops just before pouring and puts the bottle to his lips to swallows several gulps.

Anarchaia wraps her arms about herself and takes up her seat again, knees up. “Why does everyone want to fuck me?” she whispers.

Grimory, mouth still burning and lips curled in an uncontrollable grin, points to Koltira while the death knight downs his alcohol. “You.”

Koltira doesn’t notice Grimory’s attention, nor does he notice Taveth leaning in, an arm around the mage again.

“Don’t worry,” Taveth whispers, “I don’t want to fuck you.” He pats the side of her head.

Anarchaia gives a sheepish smile. “I don’t know if that’s comforting or offensive. Heh.”

Alisbeth giggles. “It’s only because I know you, you’re a woman, and you’re a great kisser. And you smell good! Go you!” She takes a drink of the whiskey she and Grimory are sharing, then points at Koltira. “Your turn, Kolty!”

At the sound of his name, Koltira jumps, spilling whiskey from his lips. He wipes his mouth. “Truth, so I’m not _this guy’s_ next victim.” He jerks a thumb at Taveth, then grabs his hand and flings the high elf’s arm from around Anarchaia, replacing it with his own.

The mage notes the exchanging of arms behind her and leans into Koltira’s, giving him a smile.

“You ever have a dirty dream about a guy?” Grimory laughs above the murmur of the crowd.

“Does that include _fucking_ him up with my fists?”

“No. But I assume you mean me.” Grimory flashes his fangs in a smile.

“Sharp as a tack, that one,” Koltira murmurs sarcastically to Anarchaia. He lifts his face from her ear and smiles. “Then, no. I haven’t. You,” he reaches over to poke Taveth, “next victim.”

Taveth smiles and leans back, abandoning the arm that had been around Anarchaia. “The dares get pretty dangerous with you guys. I’ll stick with truth… For now.” He puts his arm around Alisbeth and she giggles, then leans into him.

The mage titters into her fingertips, the alcohol so strong in Koltira’s breath that she can smell it while he’s close. “Have _you_ ever had a dirty dream about someone of the same sex?”

Grimory’s ears perk at the question and he leans over to witness Taveth’s reaction.

Taveth’s entire face, from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck at his shirt collar flushes bright red as his eyes go wide. “I-I…n-noooo. Heh. No, I—”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes. “Are you lying?”

“N-no, I—”

“Liar, liar. Pants on fire.”

Anarchaia gasps beneath Grimory’s laughter, a hand over her mouth. “There’s no shame in it. I’m willing to bet everyone has.”

Taveth purses his lips. “Fine.”

“Shot for lying!”

“But I answered it!”

Alisbeth sticks her tongue out at him. “Shot for lying.”

Anarchaia leans over and grins. “Three shots for lying, methinks.”

Grimory hums in thought, knowing his turn is next. The alcohol swims through his head, making it heavy. “Dare,” he says loudly.

Taveth frowns. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Koltira hands him three shots-worth of whiskey in his glass. “With us, there is no trying, we just do it.”

“Comforting.” He swallows down the whiskey and blurts. “Go kiss that tauren.” He points out a hairy male tauren across the tavern.

Alisbeth’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “When did you get so diabolical?”

He grins at her.

The demon hunter sucks at his teeth, narrowing his eyes at Taveth. “You know I firmly believe in revenge, yeah?” He stands and points at him. “You’ll get yours.” He saunters to the tauren’s side and clears his throat.

The man looks tiredly up at him with hazel eyes. “What do you wan—”

Grimory grabs him by his braided beard and pulls him forward to plant a kiss on his lips. The tauren pulls away and glares in disgust, nearly falling out of his seat.

“What in gods’ names?!”

The demon hunter turns and walks back to his seat, thumbs in his belt and an unpleasant look on his face.

Anarchaia laughs behind her hand. “Oh my gods.”

Alisbeth slides to the edge of the couch before Grimory can sit, and starts drinking the abandoned Kungaloosh. She grins at Grimory. “Was it hairy?”

Taveth finishes his drink and jumps up, nearly falling on Anarchaia—who, despite her frailty, holds up a hand to catch him should he fall—as he finds his footing.

He grins at Grimory. “I really didn’t think you’d do it.” He makes his way to the bar for a refill.

Koltira smirks at Alisbeth. “I like your cousin.”

Grimory cocks an eyebrow at Taveth and sits on top of Alisbeth when she doesn’t move. “It was. And I’m never doing it again.” He sticks his tongue out in Taveth’s wake. “Your turn, Ali.”

Alisbeth shoves at the demon hunter. “I’m going to go with Taveth’s advice and choose truth.” She shoves at him again. “I’m not moving! You move!”

Grimory folds his arms and doesn’t budge. “No one takes my seat,” he says drunkenly.

Anarchaia taps her chin. “If you could go back and stop yourself from having that night with Grim, would you do it?”

Alisbeth stops shoving at Grimory and fixes her gaze on the mage. “Are you seriously asking if I would willingly erase my daughter from existence?”

Koltira coughs into his fist and purses his lips at the tension.

Taveth, oblivious to the situation as he waits for his drink, grins and waves over at the group.

Anarchaia tilts her head. “Knowing what you know about everything? How different everything would be? Yes, that’s what I’m asking.”

Grimory waves back, not in the mood for the drama unfolding behind him.

Alisbeth frowns. “No. How can you even ask that?”

“It’s only a game, Ali. It’s an innocent question,” Koltira says.

Taveth returns and cocks an eyebrow at Grimory and Alisbeth. “What’s this about?”

“Just because you’d like to change a decision you’ve made doesn’t make that decision a mistake,” Anarchaia responds coolly. “Feel free to take the penalty shot.”

Taveth returns and cocks an eyebrow at Grimory and Alisbeth. “What’s this about?”

Grimory sighs at the unease. “Passive aggressive cat fight,” he says to Taveth with a smile.

Alisbeth glares at the mage. “I’m not taking a penalty shot because I answered the question. NO! And for your information it wasn’t nighttime.”

Taveth blinks between the two women then at Grimory. “Oh, I meant this whole…stacking thing going on.”

Alisbeth turns her angry glare at Taveth. “He’s being an ass because I took his seat.”

Taveth blinks, then smiles slyly. “Well, it was my seat first…” He sets himself on the demon hunter’s lap and takes a sip of his drink. “Yeah, this is nice.”

Alisbeth groans under the added weight. “No, it’s not.”

Grimory laughs and unfolds his arms to make room. “I’m told my lap is very comfortable,” he says, giving Alisbeth a sideways glance. “Ana.”

“Dare,” the mage replies, only now finishing her first glass of wine.

Alisbeth sneers and mutters, “Go stick your head in the fountain for five minutes.” She swallows more Kungaloosh and leans her head on a fist.

Taveth barely catches what Alisbeth says and purses his lips. “You know, you’ve barely drunk anything. I’m watching you, little miss. I dare you to go to the bar, get a full bottle of the strongest stuff they—_hic_ excuse me—they have and chug it. All of it.” He sips his drink. “And you can’t vomit.” He smirks. “Your lap _is_ comfortable. Almost better than the couch. I swear there’s a spring in there trying to violate me.”

Koltira blinks slowly at the man. “You don’t drink much, do you?”

Taveth just chuckles in response.

Anarchaia narrows her eyes at Alisbeth, clearly irked, but decides to ignore her dare. She cocks her head at Taveth and goes swiftly to the bar. After exchanging a few words with the bartender, he hands her a black bottle with a dark green label. She turns, leans against the bar, and uncorks the bottle with magic, then proceeds to drink all of it for a lengthy amount of time.

“Ana knows how to drink,” Grimory says behind Taveth. “She never eats, though. I don’t get it. Kolt?”

Taveth makes a face. “If she knows how to drink, then why hasn’t she been drinking? She’s—_hic_ excuse me—she’s cheating.”

“I choose dare,” Koltira says.

“How is she cheating?” he laughs, then thinks. “Get down and do pushups until it’s your turn again.”

The mage finishes her bottle, sets down coin, and returns to her seat. “Satisfied?”

Koltira rolls his eyes. “Oh, no. Pushups. Regular or double time?”

“One handed. Double.” Grimory says, then shifts in discomfort. “All right this is getting uncomfortable. My ass hurts.”

Anarchaia perks at the notion of Koltira doing pushups and looks over at him excitedly.

Koltira chuckles. “Ooo, so scary.” He drops down and throws his left fist behind his back, then starts his pushups. “By the way, it’s the bookworm’s turn,” he says with no effort.

Taveth sighs. “I don’t know, I—”

“Truth! He chooses truth.” Alisbeth grins and pokes him. She wiggles at the bottom of the pile. “Is my lap not comfortable enough for you?”

Grimory grunts and pulls his ears back as her wiggling inadvertently makes his own hips move. “Yeah, no.” He gently pushes against Taveth’s back to usher him off.

Anarchaia watches Koltira and bites her lip, then jerks back to attention. “Uhm!” She ponders for a moment. “If this building were on fire, which of us would be the last you’d rescue?”

“You,” Taveth says quickly. His eyes go wide. “I’m sorry, that didn’t seem as rude in my head and would you stop wiggling!” He glares at Alisbeth. He stands, then loses his footing and falls back against Grimory.

Anarchaia blinks and pauses, then chuckles. “I suppose that makes most sense,” she says, still watching Koltira out the corner of her eye.

“Woah,” Grimory says, grabbing Taveth below the arms and righting him again. “I think you’ve had too much.” He stands and sets himself beside Alisbeth once again. “I want truth, by the way.”

Koltira does a quick bounce, changing arms without ruining his rhythm. “What’s your biggest regret?”

Alisbeth leans up and grabs Taveth’s drink. “Let’s ease off that, okay?”

“Much stronger than Kungaloosh,” he says. He drops onto Alisbeth’s lap and stretches his legs across Grimory’s. “Wow, your lap really is bony.”

Grimory glances at Alisbeth. “Letting her give me a fake name.”

“Romantic,” Anarchaia drones, still not looking away.

Koltira purses his lips, his rhythm fathering as he realizes the implications if that one detail had been changed. He scowls at the floor and keeps going.

Alisbeth scowls at the mage. “If I choose dare will someone dare me to punch her in the face?”

Taveth shoves her. “Oh, be nice. And no, no one is going to dare that.”

“Well then I choose truth.”

“If you could change one thing about yourself—a decision you made, a personality trait, something physical—what would it be?” Anarchaia responds with a grin, ignoring the cattiness as the alcohol finally hits her.

Grimory leans back, again draping his arms over the back of the sofa, and looks at Alisbeth with genuine interest.

Alisbeth’s eyes flick to Koltira, knowing what she would change, but knowing it would hurt him. She closes her eyes and frowns. “Sending Diori away. Because everything I hate about me…wouldn’t have happened…if I’d stayed in Hillsbrad.”

Koltira continues, his glare deepening on the floor. After a minute he finally breaks and says the only thing he can think of. “I wish you hadn’t, too.”

The mage’s smile quickly fades at their answers and she holds up both hands before anything else can be said. “Uhhhh okay! Thanks. I—_hic!_—choose truth! Heh.”

Grimory continues to look at Alisbeth, his face softening. “You really think that?”

A tear drips from her eyes as she opens them. “I wouldn’t be dead, would I? I only died because—”

“Because you had a half undead child in you. You wish you had never met me. Admit it. It’s all my fault.” When she doesn’t immediately reply, Koltira growls. “Well, at least we can agree on that, right? You coming to Silvermoon was the worst—” The glass of vodka tonic shatters on his head. He pauses, then continues his pushups.

Taveth balls one fist and wipes the spilled drink from his fingers. “I change my vote. I wouldn’t save him.”

“And I wouldn’t want you to!”

Tears cascading down Alisbeth’s cheeks, she shoves Taveth to the floor and stands, glaring at the mage. “Truth? Are you happy now?” She doesn’t wait for a response as she runs up to her room.


	22. Chapter 22

Anarchaia quickly stands as the glass is thrown, but is not quick enough to stop it. She chirps an unfinished word as she’s cut off, then balls her fists and scowls at Alisbeth as she runs to the stairs. “You didn’t have to answer!” she barks after her. She bends down and reforms the glass, setting it on the table. “I’m sorry,” she says in a low tone to Koltira. “Are you all right?”

Grimory sighs and stands. “Ali, wait!” He follows her up the stairs.

Taveth drags himself onto the couch. “I think you can stop now. Does she do that a lot?”

Koltira stands, smoothing the wet hair out of his face. “I think after you threw that glass at me, that I’m not talking to you. We’re not friends. We’re no longer family. So, go to Hell.”

“I’m already there.” He makes a rude gesture but doesn’t move, knowing he’s drunk too much.

Anarchaia physically flinches at Koltira’s coldness and stands as well, again waving her hands. “G-gentlemen! Let’s be civil about this. Heh. Things were said that probably didn’t need to be. Glasses were thrown. I-it’s nothing we can’t recover from.” She gives Taveth a nervous smile. “And yes. She does.”

Koltira sighs and wraps his arms around Anarchaia. “Do you always have to be so charming when you’re being logical? Yes, by the way, I’m fine.” He kisses her forehead and pulls her to sit on the couch with him. “Look, um…Taveth, I loved Ali with everything I was. Even after I died and lost my will to the Lich King, some part of me was still with her. So, I guess I just…lost it hearing her regret literally every second she spent with me.”

Taveth nods. “That actually makes sense. I’m sorry. Choose truth.”

“What?”

“It’s your turn.”

“I..wh-…okay. Truth.”

Anarchaia gives a sigh of relief and relaxes against him, glad the men were reasonable. Her insecurity brought on by his anger gets the better of her, however, and she hesitates before turning. “Are you still in love with her?” she says in a quiet voice, looking up into his face.

Grimory comes trudging back down the stairs, bouncing a shoulder off the wall as he exits the stairwell. He grumbles and sits at the end where Alisbeth had been but says nothing.

Koltira sighs. “I will never forget what she and I had, but like I told you before, the Alisbeth I loved died in Andorhal.”

Taveth half smiles and half frowns. “That’s what I wanted to ask. Heh. She’s really just…not Ali anymore…to you, I mean.”

The death knight shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

Taveth blows out a breath. “Screw it. I choose dare.”

The mage sobers some but nods, satisfied with the answer. She turns to Taveth over her shoulder. “I dare you to go outside, hug the first guard you see and tell them you love them.” She grins.

Grimory snerks at the prospect. “Good luck with that. None of them are ever good for games.”

“How will you know I’ve done it if you can’t see me?” Taveth asks.

Anarchaia’s grin widens. “I’ll know.”

Taveth stumbles out the door and smiles at the high elf patrolling the street. He runs over and hugs him. “I love you!”

The guard laughs and wraps his arms around Taveth. “I love you, too. How drunk are you, brother?”

Taveth snerks. “Very. I have to go. Have a good first night!”

“I will, now.”

Taveth runs back in, bumping against the door. He laughs all the way back to the couch. “Did you see how hard I hit the frame? Oh, man. That’s going to bruise.”

Anarchaia scrunches her face. “All the guards in Dalaran and he gets the one queer one. Astonishing.”

Grimory snerks. “Convenient.” He sighs. “Truth seemed to get me in more trouble than dare so…dare.”

Taveth cocks his eyebrow at the mage. “Queer? Yathen? No. He’s as normal as they come. It’s his first day in Dalaran. I didn’t think he’d be patrolling so soon.”

Koltira narrows his eyes. “You just happen to know a guard?”

Taveth laughs. “I think father sent him to keep an eye on things. Meaning me. And Diori. And that…whole thing with Ali.”

Koltira blinks, then turns his gaze on Grimory. “Go hug…What was his name?”

“Yathen?”

“Go hug Yathen.”

“And tell him you love him!” Taveth adds on a laugh.

Grimory snorts and stands, making his way outside. He spots the patrolling elf and decides to wrap his large arms around him from behind. “I love you,” he whispers, struggling not to laugh.

Yathen shoves Grimory off him and holds his spear to his neck. “Hands to yourself!”

Grimory holds up his hands in surrender and smiles. “Sorry, friend. Thought you were someone else.” He whirls back around on a heel and saunters back to the bar. He comes back to find Anarchaia chuckling in her place on the couch.

“He called you a drunken idiot,” she says through her laughter.

“How the fuck do you know that?”

“The guards all use one wavelength for telepathy. I was listening in.” She grins, again stifling a hiccup.

“Sounds…illegal.”

“Oh, it is.”

Taveth laughs. “I’m sure she’s sugar-coating it. Yathen always had a mouth on him. He doesn’t allow any nonsense past him. I’ll have to ask if that’s why _he’s_here.”

“He was modest about it. Harsh language isn’t allowed on that wavelength. Master’s orders. Heh.”

“Your turn, Ana.” Grimory takes up his drink.

“Dare,” the mage says with confidence.

“Take off that fuckin’ mask.”

Anarchaia stops. “I’ll take the shot.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ana. What’s so bad that you need to hide all the time?”

“I told you already!” she hisses.

Taveth leans over, draping his arm around Anarchaia. He pulls her into a gentle hug. “I bet you’re absolutely beautiful under there. Please can I see your beautiful face?”

Koltira untangles Taveth’s arm from the mage. “She doesn’t want to.”

The high elf remains unfazed. “If I tell you a secret, will you take off your mask?”

Anarchaia hesitates, flushing. “M-maybe.” She reaches for Koltira’s bottle preemptively.

Taveth smiles. “Now, you can’t ever tell anyone, right?” He asks, slowly easing her mask up to see her ear.

Anarchaia leans away slightly, hands wringing the bottle. “Promise…”

Grimory leans over to watch, ears perked with excitement.

Taveth leans in closer to whisper so only she can hear. “I would prefer the company of Grim to any woman in the world.”

Koltira’s ears twitch as the high elf’s whisper isn’t as quiet as he thinks.

“Okay. Mask off.”

The mage’s eyes widen and she can’t help but smile. “Oh, my gods, really?”

“Ana!” Grimory barks impatiently.

“All right! I just—” She looks over at the demon hunter. “Please don’t be angry.”

Grimory scoffs in annoyance. “I can’t promise anything.”

She hesitates again. “That’s not encouraging.”

Taveth points at Grimory and attempts a stern face. “You’re not allowed to get mad, because I told her a secret.”

“Better listen to the man,” Koltira says, smirking into his glass.

Grimory opens his mouth to retort, then closes it and scowls. “That has nothing to do with me, but fine.”

Anarchaia swallows, her lips thinning into a line of apprehension. She grips the hem of her mask, fingers shaking. _He’s going to be angry_. She pulls it off and winces, eyes cast at the floor. “There. Happy?”

The demon hunter’s eyes widen. “You’re…” He bites back a scowl and growls some, a whirlwind of emotions raging through him.

Taveth smiles. “Oh, wow. You are really pretty! Were both eyes red before?” He brushes her hair away. “Albinism or just a strange physical quirk?”

Koltira eyes the demon hunter, then holds up her mask. “You can put your mask back on, Ana.”

She blushes at the compliment but does not acknowledge it, thinking it disingenuous. “Albinism.” She takes her mask and makes to put it back on.

“Leave it off,” Grimory growls, sipping from his bottle.

Anarchaia flinches. “W-Why?”

“Nothing to hide, now, right?”

She glances around at the crowd in the tavern and swallows. Feeling obligated for her months of lying, she lowers the mask and smiles at Taveth. “Thank you,” she says, finally regarding the compliment.

“I have so many questions. For another time, of course.” Taveth smiles, his fingers feeling over a lock of her white hair.

Koltira puts a somewhat possessive arm around the mage. “Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I won’t.” The mage flashes a glance at Grimory who looks away, then returns a smile to Taveth. “Of course.” She clears her throat at the awkward tension. “Per—…Perhaps we should just call it a night. I seem to have killed the vibe. Heh.”

Taveth laughs. “The only thing you’re killing is that haircut. My sister did it the same way for a long time. Oh! She’s a mage! You may see her around the Hall of the Guardian.” He turns and grins at Grimory. “Tell her she’s killing it.”

Grimory’s slit eyes flick from Taveth to Anarchaia to the floor. “You’re killin’ it.” He takes another drink.

Anarchaia gives a half smile, touched by his effort. “What’s her name?” she says to Taveth, hand reaching up to grab Koltira’s at her shoulder.

“Kel’ori Nightheart. She’s been working overtime at Azurewing Repose, though. I haven’t had the chance to see her since I got here.” He searches around as though he’s lost something.

Koltira cocks his eyebrow. “How many family members do you have in Dalaran?”

“Just the two. The others are in Stormwind. My two brothers help at the tavern and my one sister is getting married and the other is a guard—like Yathen was before he came here…to also guard…”

Anarchaia nods. “I do know her. We haven’t talked much, however. Though, most people at the Hall don’t really talk to me so that’s not a significant fact.” She brings her hands up to fix her messed hair.

Grimory knits his brow. “You have six siblings?”

Taveth raises his brow at the demon hunter. “My father started early, Ali’s mother started late. Is there something wrong with big families?”

Grimory leans back against the arm rest. “Nope,” he responds, a lull in his voice.

“What do you plan on doing once done with your studies?” Anarchaia chimes in.

Taveth leans back. “Done? I, um, I think this is more of what I’ll be doing for the rest of my life. I just love the research. Though, I do hope to get sent out into the field more often—like this Aszuna assignment. What about you?”

“Me? Oh, ahhh…” The mage gives a nervous titter. “I’d like to perhaps be a part of the Council of Six. But that’d require one of them to either die or retire…and for more than one third of them to like me. Heh.” She takes a sip from the bottle and winces at the flavor. “But…I’ve kind of been slacking off, if I’m being honest.”

“Well,” he says leaning in again, “if you ever care for a research partner—or to borrow a rare book I can wiggle out of the Stormwind library—just ask.” He winks.

She blushes again and chuckles again into a hand. “Likewise.”

“We still playin’ or should you two see if there’s any vacancies upstairs?” the demon hunter grumbles into the neck of his bottle.

Taveth laughs and nudges Anarchaia. “Only if the lady wishes.” He snirks and winks at her again.

Koltira resists, but joins in the chuckle. “We can keep playing. My turn? I’ll go with truth.”

Anarchaia’s blush deepens and she clears her throat, turning to Koltira. “If you could kill anyone on this planet right at this moment, who would it be?”

Koltira frowns. “That’s tough. Duty leads me to want Gul’dan dead. But… There’s a warlock and priest I’d like to have a word with. The trouble would be choosing just one.” He thinks on it. “If I use just one sword stroke, does it count as one?”

Taveth shudders and helps himself to taking Anarchaia’s bottle and swigging from it. He coughs and hands it back. “What could they have possibly done to deserve a seat on the shelf hatred beside Gul’dan?”

Anarchaia purses her lips and squeezes Koltira’s hand. “It’s a sensitive topic. I’m clearly not thinking my questions through. Heh.”

“Or, as I’ve said, everyone’s too sensitive.” Grimory glances at the stairwell, curious if Alisbeth is even still upstairs.

Koltira chuckles. “Not sensitive at all. They’re the ones that murdered your cousin.”

Taveth goes quiet for a long time. “I say one sword stroke counts. Anything I can do to help?”

The death knight shakes his head. “Stay out of it and stay safe. Truth or dare, Taveth.”

“Truth, please.”

“Would you ever consider becoming a demon hunter?” Grimory says with interest, pushing his finger into the neck of his bottle and pulling it out idly.

Taveth flinches the littlest bit. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for that. I’m not like you.”

“Physically or mentally? Because both can be trained. I was…kind of like you at one point, you know.” He eyes the man’s ponytail. “A bit, actually.”

Taveth’s ears darken a little more. “I-I f-find that h-hard to believe.” He glances from the corner of his eye at Grimory, then stares at the table.

Koltira shrugs. “I think you’re stronger than you think. Keeping secrets requires a certain level of strength.”

Anarchaia smiles at him and bites her lip. “Agreed. And you seem very bright. As Master always says: knowledge is power.”

“Anyone can build muscle if that’s what you’re worried about. Cut out sugars here, run ten miles there… You could do it.” Grimory takes another drink. “Not like I’m recruiting you or anything.”

Taveth makes a face. “Heh. I, uh, I-I think I’m good just…studying history and writing it down for posterity.”

Koltira shrugs. “A noble enough venture. Grim’s turn.”

Grimory shrugs. “Not for everyone. Dare.”

“Kiss Taveth,” Anarchaia blurts.

Heat crawls up Taveth’s neck, turning his skin a dark scarlet. “T-take th-the drink.”

Grimory’s ears pull back and turn red. “Why is everyone so interested in seeing me do homosexual things?”

Koltira lowers his brow. “Are you afraid of what other people think? Or do you have some hidden secrets of your own you’d like to share?”

Grimory narrows his eyes at both men. “I’m obviously the one most comfortable with my sexuality, here. You wouldn’t even kiss an illusion of another man.” He hesitates, glancing back at Taveth. “You want me to take the drink?”

Taveth fidgets. “Yes. T-take the drink.”

“He’s clearly not comfortable, so…” He downs a shot’s worth of whiskey.

Anarchaia frowns and awws in disappointment. “No fun. Me next? I’ll do a dare.” She glances around at the dwindling crowd and wrings her mask in her hands nervously.

Taveth frowns as he realizes his missed opportunity. “Heh. G-guess you’ll have to get your kicks elsewhere. N-no way is th-this man…” He trails off as his frown deepens.

Koltira sets his hand over Anarchaia’s fiddling ones. “I dare you to put your mask back on.”

Grimory lifts a brow at the man’s muttering, mildly amused. He leans down and smirks playfully. “Change your mind?”

“Heh. W-why? Did you?” Taveth fidgets, wishing he had another drink to distract himself, but not trusting his feet to carry him to the bar.

Anarchaia looks into his eyes and her face softens. She throws the mask back over her hair and head, smiling gratefully. “That’s no fun, though…”

Koltira hugs her closer to him with an arm. “You just looked so uncomfortable. Would you rather I hadn’t?”

The demon hunter laughs and leans back. “Don’t hurt yourself, Tav. Koltira!”

“Just seems like a waste of a dare,” she chuckles, snaking an arm between his waist and the couch.

Koltira chuckles. “Then now’s your chance to get me back. I choose dare.”


	23. Chapter 23

Anarchaia points to the space of floor before her and smiles excitedly. “Let me—_hic!_—braid your hair.”

“That’s equally lame,” Grimory grunts. “Ana is relieved of Dare Duty.”

Koltira shrugs. “I don’t mind it. I hear the fishtail look is rather becoming on elves, though you may be too drunk for that.” He scoots off the couch and realizes his own level of inebriation. “Taveth, your turn.” He laughs.

“Truth, I suppose. Hasn’t let me down so far. Heh.”

Anarchaia swings a leg around Koltira and scoots to the edge of the couch, taking his long hair into her hands. She smirks. “What do you like most about your secret love interest?”

Taveth taps his fingertips together as he thinks on phrasing. “Um, heh, I-I suppose…very gallant. Yes, that’s a good one.”

Koltira tries to hide his chuckling.

Anarchaia jerks her head and smiles. “Gallant? I suppose you’re not wrong.” She gives him a sideways glance through her mask as she braids. “Grim?”

“I’ll go with…truth, too,” he says, the alcohol catching up with him. “Don’t feel like getting up.”

Taveth purses his lips. “Are you in love with my cousin?”

Koltira’s ears prick, but he doesn’t turn his head, wanting to seem uncaring.

Grimory immediately brings the bottle to his lips and takes well more than a shot’s amount down his throat, then sets the bottle aside when he feels sick. “Ana?” he says with a grin.

“I’ll take a truth since I’m a bit busy,” she laughs, still braiding.

“Why do you hide what you are?” he blurts, then flinches. “S-sorry. That was mean.”

The undead sobers some. “When…I was raised…I was one of the first. Necromancy was very…shameful. Master—” She forces the words through her teeth. “—_Kel’thuzad_ was shunned and expelled for it. I was a product. People were…not fond of me. I know there are many forsaken around, but…I never fail to get a wince from my peers who know why I exist.”

“Sh-should’ve taken a shot. Heh. I’m sorry.”

“She’s stronger than she knows, Taveth.” Koltira reaches back to give her knee a loving squeeze. “I can’t move right now, so, truth for me as well.”

“I-I’m really not—”

“You gonna marry Ana, now?” Grimory says with a cool sobriety that makes the mage stiffen.

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. “You know, we’re really not at that stage, yet. So, I’ll have to answer you with a firm ‘I don’t know.'” He smirks, turning just the smallest bit to eye the demon hunter. “Look at that, at least I had the courage to answer.”

Taveth grins painfully at the growing tension. “Heh, heh. Good answer.” He taps his fingers together. “I think I’ll try a dare. Yeah. Dare.” His eyes betray his fear just the smallest bit.

Anarchaia inhales but is cut off.

“Since you’ve never kissed anyone, why not give Ana a kiss?” Grimory slurs with a smile.

The mage’s shoulders rise as she alternates between looking at Koltira and Taveth. “I-I don’t think he’s interested…”

Koltira rolls his eyes. “Lots of kissing dares going around. Makes me wonder what’s really on everyone’s mind. Either that or it’s lack of imagination.”

“Oh please,” Grimory snaps. “Like there’s any other reason to play this ga—”

Taveth takes a deep breath, leans forward, and kisses the cheek of her mask. “I’m not afraid to kiss a beautiful woman.” He leans back triumphantly.

The Illidari’s sneer falls into an unimpressed line. “Hardly counts.”

Anarchaia chortles. “Loopholes.”

Koltira blinks. “What? What happened?”

“Kissed her cheek,” Taveth says, beaming with his ingenious.

Koltira jerks back with his uncontrollable laughter. “Totally counts. You never specified.”

Taveth grins at Grimory, trying to hide his admiration of his profile. “Your turn.”

Alisbeth stumbles in through the door, carrying a nearly life-sized stuffed furbolg. She peeks over the top and goes to sit down, but trips on the edge of the couch and stumbles forward, falling on Taveth.

Anarchaia bristles when the nearly finished braid is torn from her hands. “Koltira!” She pushes his head forward again to continue, then looks up as Alisbeth nears. “Oh, Al—!!” The couch groans as nearly everyone sitting on it is crushed under stiff fur and dust.

Grimory laughs. “And where have you been?”

Alisbeth shoves the bear between herself and Taveth as though it has every right to be on the couch. “I was upshet. Sho I went to th’ toy shop and helped Jaredleto closhe. Thenwe go’ ta drinkin’ caushe I was ushet.” She smacks her lips and traces her fingers in the air as though trying to pluck through a spider web for what she was saying. “He made me thiss guy sho I’d feel beddersh.” She snuggles into the furbolg.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows, barely making out what she’s saying. “So, you feel better, now?”

Anarchaia brushes the loose fur from her robes, then scoffs in irritation over, once again, being interrupted. She grabs the braid again and finishes, tying it off with a conjured leather tie and conjuring a rose to stick at the base.

The death knight smiles. “I feeeeeeel…shnuggly. Woul’joo like-a shnuuugle?” She grins at him.

“I would like a shnuggle!” Taveth mimics her heavy slur, the hiccups. He wraps his arms around the furbolg. “Ay, Grim. ‘S your turn.”

Grimory grins down at her. “Always, drunky.” He turns his body so he can pull her into his lap. “Dare.”

Alisbeth snuggles into the demon hunter, allowing Taveth to have the furbolg all to himself.

“Kiss the fubolg!” Taveth shouts.

Koltira rolls his eyes. “More kissing.” He tilts his head back to look at Anarchaia, then whispers, “I dare you to kiss me.” He winks at her.

“Hm. Think I’ll take the shot,” she quips, then smiles and lifts her mask to plant an upside-down kiss on his lips.

“Lots of kissing dares goin’ ’round,” Grimory mocks, then grabs the stuffed toy to place a kiss on its nose, then sticks his tongue out at Taveth.

Taveth laughs and returns to hugging the stuffed creature.

Alisbeth cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, yer shtill playing? C’n-I play?”

Grimory hugs her closer. “Truth or dare?” he says into her ear.

Alisbeth bites her lower lip as she smiles at him. “I don’t wanna kish an’thing, sho I shoose truth.”

Taveth laughs. “Oh, come on, Ali. Where’s the love?”

She giggles and turns her head to stick her tongue out at him.

Grimory thinks for a long moment. “What’s your favorite thing about me?” he asks with a haughty smile, wrapping his arms around her so she can’t escape.

“Tha’ you’re you.” She grins wide. “Cou’n’t say ev’rthing, sho…”

Grimory furrows his brow upward and smiles, not expecting a genuine answer. “Awe.” He pokes her nose. “Ana.”

The mage looks up from smiling down into Koltira’s face and blinks. “O-oh. Dare? I guess?”

“Take off your mashk!” Alisbeth shouts, then covers her mouth and giggles at her volume.

“We already did that,” Koltira says.

“Wivout me?” She sticks out her lower lip. “Sho no’ fair. Ish she pretty?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry. Heh. You didn’t miss much.” She pulls her mask back down, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Go tell Khadgar to fuck himself,” Grimory laughs.

Anarchaia straightens. “_Absolutely not!_”

He shrugs and continues to chuckle. “Then pass.”

The mage swipes up the bottle of whiskey on the floor beside her foot and takes a drink, scowling.

Koltira laughs. “Dare.”

Anarchaia swallows and grimaces, then hands him the half-empty bottle. “Slam the rest of this.”

Koltira upends the bottle and chugs it as fast as he can. “That’s gonna hit hard,” he says. He sets the bottle on the table.

“I suppose it’s my turn,” Taveth says on a sigh, his eyes closed as he squeezes the critter. “Truth.”

“You ever fucked a woman?” Grimory asks, curiosity overtaking his manners.

Anarchaia glares at him. “Grim!” she hisses.

The demon hunter shrugs. “Just a question.”

She looks at Taveth. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Taveth blinks at the mage, then sighs. “I-it’s quite all right.” He clears his throat. “My research keeps me very busy. Too busy for fraternization.”

Grimory’s eyes light up and he leans over to look at Anarchaia.

“No,” she growls, then smiles at Taveth. “N-no offense. Heh.”

Grimory pffts and leans back again. “My turn again already? Truth.” He flicks the tip of Alisbeth’s ear gently.

Koltira smirks. “Ever fucked with a man?”

Alisbeth snorts.

Grimory furrows his brow. “No. Is that an offer?”

Koltira chuckles. “Is that interest I hear in your voice? ‘Cause, I know a guy…”

Alisbeth laughs once, then her eyes go wide. “Do it! A bucket lisht should alwaysh have encountersh with the shame shex. And threeshomesh.” She lifts a seductive eyebrow. “Wan’ knock shomething off my bucket lisht with me?”

Grimory sneers. “No thanks. I don’t like to share. Nor do I die, so a bucket list is unnecessary.” He pinches her cheek. “Your turn.”

“Don’need to die to have a bucket lisht.” She smiles and pokes his nose. “Boop. Truth!”

“What would you do if one of us was raised as a forsaken?” Grimory says with care, hoping she’s drunk enough not to lose it.

Anarchaia swallows and leans back in her seat, avoiding looking over.

Alisbeth frowns. “Well…I can’t. Koltira can’t. Can…can you be…raished?” Tears spring to her eyes at the thought. “Pleashe tell me you can’t. I don’t like tha’idea. I like you thish way.”

Taveth sets a hand on her back. “What about me? I can.”

Alisbeth cries harder. “I don’wan’o be-afraido’you.” She grabs him and tries to hold Grimory, Taveth, and the stuffed furbolg in her arms. “I’ll kill an’one tha’triesh to hur’you!”

Taveth struggles in her grasp. “So, you hate forsaken because you’re afraid of them?”

She purses her lips at him. “I a’ready ansh’er’d my truth.”

“Not all forsaken are scary,” Grimory explains, petting her hair.

“Most of them didn’t have a choice,” Anarchaia adds. “Like you.”

Alisbeth purses her lips. “I-I don’know.” She looks at the demon hunter and smiles, then leans in to kiss him. “Will you protect me from them?”

Taveth grins over at her. “I’d protect you.”

Grimory gives her the kiss he’s prompted to give. “Sure,” he says with a reassuring grin.

Anarchaia purses her lips as well and holds back a sigh. “Who next?”

Taveth pokes the mage in the ribs. “I think it’s your turn.”

Anarchaia chirps a loud laugh and jerks away, a hand over her mouth. “Dare.”

“I dare…” Taveth’s voice trails off before he snaps upright. “What?”

Alisbeth laughs. “Aww, is it past your bedtime?”

“I’ll have you know that,” he looks over at a clock across the room, “yes, it most definitely is.”

Alisbeth grins evilly. “I dare Abu to carry my coushin to bed—”

“I can carry myself, thank you!”

“AND shpend the night!” she finishes.

The mage stands, swaying some before steadying herself. “I don’t know about staying the night,” she lifts her hands and with magic pulls Taveth from his spot, his feet inches off the floor. “But I’ll walk you home.”

Grimory scoffs again. “Passer,” he sneers at the undead.

Alisbeth giggles. “Gotta shtay the night or it doesn’t count!”

Taveth fights against the floating. “I’d rather just walk myself, please.”

“I dunno,” Anarchaia starts. “You’re awfully dr—”

“Anarchaia! Do you have any idea what time it is?” Khadgar’s shadow looms over, arms folded and a rolled parchment in one hand.

The mage jumps, releasing Taveth from her magical grasp. “Master!” She leans to look past him at the clock near the door. “Three-thirty?” she responds with an innocent grin.

He taps her gently on the head with the parchment. “This was supposed to be in my hands three and a half hours ago. Yet I found it lying incomplete on your desk.”

“It’s in your hands now—”

“Ana.”

Grimory snerks. “Late homework?”

Anarchaia cocks her head to glare at him.

Taveth stands, his eyes wide. He tries to remain straight, but he still sways with inebriation. “I believe it is mostly my fault, sir. I was g—_hic!_ excuse me—getting to know them. By the way, it is an honor to finally meet you. I own every book you’ve written or contributed to. Really, your research is quite fan—”

“Taveth, you’re blithering,” Alisbeth says, laughing.

Taveth blushes. “Yes. Sorry.” He smiles at Anarchaia. “I look forward to comparing notes in the future.” He kisses her hand, the act of bending to do so making him tip forward onto her.

Khadgar blinks down at the elf and his stern expression softens to a smile. “I’m flattered. It’s a pleasure.” His eyebrows raise in the slightest fashion as Taveth bends down to kiss his apprentice’s hand. _You have a lot suitors all of a sudden_, he says into her mind.

Anarchaia chuckles and wraps her arms about him to pull him back to his feet. _This one doesn’t count._ She pulls up her mask to smile at Taveth. “I, as well.” She leans over to wave at Koltira. “Tomorrow.”

“G-go easy on her,” Taveth tells Khadgar. He wraps Anarchaia in a hug and whispers in her ear, “I had no idea Archmage Khadgar was so handsome!”

Koltira stands and gives the Archmage a pinched smile. “Khadgar.” He smiles at Anarchaia. “Tomorrow, then.” He doesn’t wait for any goodbyes as he exits the tavern, the slightest sway in his steps.

Anarchaia titters into fingertips. “He really is,” she responds just as quietly, then lifts her hands to perhaps give Koltira a hug, but he saunters off before she can. “Good night,” she calls after, then repeats to others.

Grimory gives a wave from the back. “Night, Ana.”

Khadgar suddenly sets a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” She disappears in a flash.

The Archmage sighs. “Teleport.” He regards the other three with kind eyes. “Again, a pleasure.” Scales of his cloak tinkling, he turns and leaves as well.

Taveth sways, nearly falling over several times. “I j-just met Archmage Khadgar!” He gives a little jump of excitement and falls onto Alisbeth and Grimory.

Alisbeth laughs. “You’re trashed, Tav! Can you even make it back to your room?”

“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” He tries to stand and falls on them again. “Probably not.”

“I’ll walk ‘im home,” Grimory slurs. “I’m not much more sober, but at least no one will fuck with ‘im then.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet! Thank you!” Alisbeth beams at him and leans in to give him several little kisses. “I’m going to get this into my room.” She grabs the furbolg in her arms. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.” She helps Taveth to his feet.

Taveth furrows his brow. “Oh. All right. J-just w-walking home, is all. N-ho pro—_hic!_—problem. Heh.” He eyes the demon hunter.

Grimory smiles at the kisses, then turns amused eyes on Taveth as he stands. “You sure you don’t want me to stay the night?” he jokes, then turns for the door.

Taveth laughs outright. “If you can convince the guards—which you won’t—then you’re welcome in my humble little room.” He stumbles after Grimory. “Diori would be thrilled to wake up and see you there. You know, she adores you.”

The demon hunter sobers some. “I’m glad she does. Don’t think I’ll ever feel like a dad to her, but…even if she likes me. That’s enough.”

Taveth throws an arm over the other’s shoulder. “But you should. She’s your daughter and you have every right…”

“It’s not that easy.”

He smiles up at Grimory as he looks over the man’s profile in the dim street lamps. He notices the quiet of the night and realizes they’re the only ones on the street. “Hey, Grim?”

He tilts his head to look at the slightly shorter man through the curl of his horn. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Taveth steps in front of the demon hunter and stops, staring up at him and forcing the bravery to not abandon him. “I changed my mind.” Before the other can respond he grabs him behind the neck and presses his lips on Grimory’s.

The Illidari’s eyes widen and burst into flame as he’s too shocked to pull away. A moment passes. His cheeks flush and, with sudden sobriety, he takes a step back, a hand over his mouth. “T-Taveth!”

Taveth’s eyes widen. “I-I’m sorry. I-I-I…” He takes a step back and stumbles into the steps wrapping around to the toy shop. His face darkens to deep scarlet. “I-I’ll walk m-mys-self home. Heh. Heh, heh.” He spins and grips the wall to steady himself as he heads for Greyfang Enclave.

Grimory stands in his spot for a long while, watching the other man go. The thought crosses his mind that he should continue escorting him, but the uncomfortable air surrounding them—even at this distance—prevents him from doing so. He instead turns as well and heads back to the lounge.


	24. Chapter 24

Grimory wakes up the next morning beside Alisbeth. He winces and puts a hand to his head, then leans over to kiss her despite then pain. “Morning. Sleep well?” he jokes.

She smiles wide. “Oh, it was the best sleep ever!” She snuggles into him. “How about you? Sleep well?”

Grimory furrows his brow. “I think so.” He wraps an arm around her and squeezes, then pauses as a realization hits him. “He kissed me.”

Alisbeth furrows her brow. “Who? When?”

“Taveth. Last night.” He throws the blankets off himself and swings his legs over to rest on the floor.

Alisbeth giggles. “I think you drank too much and had a weird dream.”

“Maybe. Seemed pretty real to me.” He grabs a towel from the wardrobe and throws it around himself. “Shower time. Coming?”

“Of course I am!” She jumps up after him after grabbing her own towel and soaps bag.

~ * ~

Taveth wakes with sickening regret for the amount he’d drunk. He finds a note on his side table:

_Took Diori for breakfast. Drink this._

Beside the note is a mug of some sort of tea. He sips it as he sits up, trying to remember past throwing his glass at Koltira’s head.

~ * ~

“Still not ready,” Steamvolt drones the second Anarchaia pokes her head into his shop. “I told you how long it’d take.”

The mage sticks out her lower lip. “Yes, but what if you finish early?”

“Then I’d obviously tell you.” His cyan eyes lift from the device he’s bent over to narrow at her.

“No, you won’t. You get paid by the day, not the project.”

The goblin can’t help but smirk. “I’ll tell you, Ana.”

“You’d better!” she sings from outside as she checks the item off her list.

Koltira can’t help the giant smile on his face as he enters the Legerdemain Lounge, hoping Anarchaia might stop in. _I’ll wait all day, if I have to._

After a number of stops, Anarchaia finally returns to the Legerdemain Lounge, making her way to the staircase while continuing to pour over her list.

Koltira runs forward and grabs Anarchaia by the elbow. “Ana!”

The mage jumps, a noise of surprise in her throat. “Oh! Kolt. Good morning.” She smiles. “Something happen?”

He laughs lightly. “Oh, not much. I just saw Thassarian last night…” He gives her a wicked smile.

Anarchaia perks and chuckles. “Oh yeah? I bet he had some things to say.”

“Oh, I had to weasel it out of him. He wouldn’t even spare any details! So, we need to get Juliember here to tell us.”

Taveth steps into the Legerdemain Lounge, rubbing his face against the pain of squinting at the sun. He notices the two in his path to Alisbeth’s room and stops. “Oh. Hi. How are things?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start—” Anarchaia glances at Taveth and smiles. “Better than yours, it would seem.”

Taveth smiles painfully. “My things all hurt. Things being brains. And everything from the neck up. I think my hair even hurts.”

Koltira chuckles at him. “I’ve been there. I don’t miss it.” He turns back to the mage. “Well, until we can get to her… He basically accused the “disgusting troll” of casting a spell on him. I asked what she said, but… This is kind of the best part. He doesn’t speak troll. And I’m guessing she doesn’t speak Common. Says he shooed her out the door like the animal she is, then returned to Acherus.” He purses his lips to think on it. “I’m not even sure if that’s the full story.”

Anarchaia conjures a mug of briarthorn tea, already steaming as the leaves drop in, and holds it out to Taveth as she listens to Koltira. She laughs. “Oh no, not by a long shot. She wouldn’t just leave because he shooed her. Ugh, we have to find her.”

Taveth furrows his brow. “Oh, is this that troll lady you were rushing into a room the other night?”

Koltira smiles. “The very same.”

“Oh, then I definitely want to be around to know what happened.” He sips the tea and grunts, setting cool fingertips to his lips. “Still hot. Good, but hot.”

“Hey guys!” Alisbeth shouts down at them from the top of the stairs, wearing only a towel and dripping wet. “Come on up!”

Anarchaia looks up the stairs and grimaces. “Good morning! I was just checking up on you, actually. I have more errands to run. Good to see you’re still here. Heh.”

Grimory glances down the stairs, pulls his ears back at the sight of Taveth and returns to Alisbeth’s room to dress.

Alisbeth bounces on the balls of her feet. “Oh, can I help with the errands? We had so much fun last time!”

“Actually, Ali, I wanted to talk to you,” Taveth interjects, vaguely remembering the tension between the two.

“Oh. Okay. Come on up!”

Taveth smiles at the other two and takes a few steps up. “Please let me know when you get your troll friend around. I really am interested in the full story.” He chuckles. “Thank you for the tea.”

“Anytime,” Anarchaia says with a smile, secretly grateful for his stepping in.

Grimory quickly dresses when he hears Alisbeth’s invite through the door. _Maybe it was just a dream._

Taveth follows his cousin into her room, then quickly spins around when she unabashedly drops her towel to dress. “Morning, Grim. How’s your head?” He chuckles and sips at the tea.

Grimory chuckles. “I’ve been better, that’s for sure.” He rubs his still damp towel against his belt to shine the buckle some. “Judging by the smell of briarthorn, you’ll say the same.”

Alisbeth giggles as she trips into a pair of red leather pants. “The one real blessing of being dead… No hangovers.”

Taveth smirks at the wall. “I have a confession to make. I don’t drink hard alcohol. Maybe a nice wine with studies or dinner, Kungaloosh on hot days to cool off. My brother makes a mean Kungaloosh—claims he learned straight from Nessingwary—”

“He’s so full of it!” Alisbeth laughs. “I know he can’t have met him. He can’t!”

“Well, the vodka and whiskey caught me off guard.”

Grimory laughs. “You did turn out to be quite a party person. You should drink more often.”

“You can turn around,” Alisbeth says as she finishes buckling a scarlet breastplate over her black shirt.

Taveth turns and cocks an eyebrow at Grimory. “Was I?”

Alisbeth gives him a sly grin. “Did you black out?”

He frowns. “I think so…”

Grimory chuckles and tosses the towel onto the bed. “You seemed to have fun.”

Taveth raises an eyebrow. “Oh gods, did I make a complete fool of myself? The last thing I remember was throwing my glass at Koltira and…I don’t even remember why I did that.”

Alisbeth grabs him in a hug. “Because you were standing up for me. You’re my hero, Tabbef!”

Grimory smirks at the memory. “Pretty valiant, yeah.” He folds his arms and leans against the footboard of the bed. “So, what brings you over? Aren’t you a busy scholar?”

Taveth finishes the tea and sets the cup on Alisbeth’s new dresser. “Well, a couple reasons. I was hoping for insight into the night—I do hate an incomplete story—and because I…need a bodyguard. I was hoping one of you might volunteer before he assigns some idiot who’ll compromise my work and just be awful to be around.”

Grimory chuckles, remembering last night and not being too eager to volunteer. “I’ll leave that up to Ali.”

Taveth sighs. “Well, then, Ali?”

“I ran away for a long time and you stayed in the tavern with them. And apparently there was lots of kissing while I was gone? And you dared Grim to kiss Mister Grr-Face.” She motions at the giant stuffed furbolg in the corner.

“Who the… Mister Grr-Face? Y-you have a giant furbolg teddy bear, and you named it Mister Grr-Face…”

“Mm-hmm! And you threw your glass at Koltira because he was being a jerk to me. Oh! Then I dared Almond to walk you home and spend the night, but Catart—you know that grey-haired mage guy—showed up and—”

“Archmage Khadgar was there?” Taveth’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes open. “Please tell me I didn’t make a fool of myself.”

Alisbeth blinks at him. “You didn’t!” She jumps and claps excitedly for him. “In fact, you were very flattering. I think he appreciated it. Though, he did give you a funny look when you kissed mage-face’s hand.”

Taveth stands frozen for a good minute as he takes it all in. “I met Archmage Khadgar…and I don’t remember a single second of it. This might be the worst thing that could’ve happened all night.”

Grimory gives another laugh. “We’ll take a photograph next time for you. As for this bodyguard business, I suppose I have an opening in my schedule…” He picks at a nail. “Where we going?”

“Oh, Azsuna! Again. This time, though, I’m headed to the academy to interview the spirits and hopefully be granted access to their tomes. However, the academy is crawling with naga. That’s where you would come in. We scholars aren’t much for fighting, as you know.” He finishes, his eyes on the cup on the dresser as he twists it, not realizing he’s been twisting it side to side the whole time.

Alisbeth slaps her hands over his one on the mug. She glares at it, then smiles at him. “I’d love to go!”

Grimory scoffs as though the information bores him. “Naga? Big deal. Shouldn’t be too difficult. How long is this field trip of yours planned to be?”

“Well, I asked for as short as possible. It’s too dangerous to bring Diori. Looking at one, maybe two days depending on the spirits’ dispositions,” Taveth says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Alisbeth purses her lips. “So…does one of us have to stay?”

Grimory shrugs. “I could stay behind.”

Alisbeth frowns. “But you’d miss out on a fun adventure!”

Taveth thinks on it, tapping his chin with his thumb. “Well… I could ask someone to watch her. She knows her schedule for school, so that’s easy.”

Grimory thinks for a moment. “I think the only person I’d trust is Ana. She’s pretty good with kids. At least from what I’ve seen during Children’s Week.”

Alisbeth purses her lips. “Are you sure she won’t be mean to her because of me?”

Taveth grimaces at the demon hunter. “I’m inclined to agree with Ali. Ana did some pretty rude things last night, if I remember correctly.”

Grimory furrows his brow. “As far as I’m concerned, she was just playing the game. She had to do some humiliating things, too,” he says, recalling her face. “And she would never hurt a kid.”

Taveth sighs. “Well… Diori is as hot headed as Ali, so if anything fishy happens, she can fend for herself.”

Alisbeth giggles as she pulls on a pair of black boots. “I’d actually like to see that. If you think she’ll be fine, then I trust you.”

Grimory nods. “I’d know. If anything happens you can hold me responsible. Though, she may still be downstairs, so if we’re gonna ask we should do it now.”

“You know her better than I do, so maybe you should go ask?” Taveth says, tapping his fingertips together.

“You seemed to know her pretty well last night,” Grimory says, patting Taveth on the shoulder as he passes and heads downstairs.

~ * ~

Anarchaia turns to Koltira and huffs. “You didn’t kiss me goodnight last night. I couldn’t get a wink if sleep because of it.”

Koltira chuckles and wraps his arm around her. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that. You must be exhausted.” He lifts her mask to her nose and sets a kiss to her lips. “Plus, with the way that old man looks at me…I think he would have obliterated me on the spot.”

Anarchaia blushes, grins, and wraps her arms about his waist. “He’s not old. And you seem to have this notion that he’s a jealous lover or something.”

Koltira blinks at her. “J-jealous lover? Wait. You and he…?”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen. “N-no! You’re just making it seem that way is all. Why else would he—” she quotes with her fingers. “—not like you?”

Koltira sighs internally, then shrugs. “Maybe he thinks I’m disrupting your studies, or a bad influence… Or he knew about Ali and I but doesn’t know the new arrangement? I honestly don’t know. I’ve barely said two sentences to the guy.”

“Well you _are_ a distraction. Heh.” She pauses. “B-but in a good way! He doesn’t control me. I deserve friends.”

Koltira chuckles again. “Well, now you’ve got a very eager study partner, who can probably really help. I mean, he’s a lot older and lives in Stormwind. He may have gotten his hands on books you’ve yet to hear of…if there is such a thing.” He looks around the sparsely populated tavern—the inhabitants groggy and sipping specialty coffees. “So, what are you up to today?”

Anarchaia sighs and looks at her list, then holds it up. “Heh. Fun. Wanna have a coffee with me instead?”

Koltira gives her a charming smile. “I’ll pay, as apology for a kissless night.”

“It’ll take more than coin to make up for that, mister.” She takes up a seat at a lounge table.

He frowns dramatically. “I feel like I’m in the dog house.”

“Quite the contrary, actually,” Anarchaia says with a crooked smile. “Unless you find sex with me to be a punishment. Then yes.” She orders the lightest coffee they have with no milk or sugar.

Koltira blinks at her. “Tact. It’s a thing.” He winks at her.

“So is being straight forward,” she shrugs with a smile. “So, you came all the way here just to tell me what Thassarian said?”

Koltira gives a fake stricken expression. “Did I need an excuse at all?”

Anarchaia smiles and places a hand over her chest. “Well you can’t expect me to believe you came to see me.”

Koltira smirks. “All right, you caught me. I only came for the coffee.”

The mage chuckles. “It _is_ good coffee,” she says as hers is set before her. She conjures an ice cube to place inside. “I suppose we could just ask around town for a druid.”

“Well, that or we could work through your list of _fun_. Which I’m willing to help with, anyway.” Koltira gives her a sly wink.

Anarchaia unfurls her list again. “That’s probably a good idea, actually. I’ve been avoiding all this for too long. Should probably just get it done.” She sighs and sips her coffee, then winces when it’s still too hot.

“Where shall we start?” he asks.

“I have to drop off a pendant to be repaired, then the scroll I translated this morning needs to be given to the archaeologist, then I need another order of pastries for a small party Master is throwing… Are you sure you don’t mind? This is all…very exciting stuff. I’d hate for you to die of overstimulation.”

Koltira nods as he listens to her list, then smirks. “Oh, this sounds like the most thrilling adventure ever. Much better than the Stormheim thing. That was such a yawn in comparison.”

“Oh, good. You’re still here.”

The mage blinks up at the demon hunter, rolling the parchment back up. The awkward tension from the previous night resurfaces. “Morning, Grim. Sleep well? Heh.”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “So, Ali and I are going to help Taveth with this research mission and we were wondering if you wouldn’t mind watching after Diori for a day? Maybe two?”

Anarchaia purses her lips in thought. “I-I dunno. I’d have to ask Master if I can be unavailable. Plus, I’m not convinced she likes me much. Heh.”

Alisbeth and Taveth descend the stairs slowly, conspicuously eaves dropping.

Taveth purses his lips. “I can just see if the—”

“Idea!” Alisbeth hisses. She hops down the stairs and grins at Koltira, her entire face scrunched up. “So, uh, you wanna help watch Diori? Say yes, because I know how you can help!”

Koltira blinks, a strange excitement churning in him, though he hides it. “I…suppose?”

“No, you say ‘yes’.”

“Yes?”

“She wants to meet Bloodmist. She loves the undead horses. So…do that.” She grins again.

Taveth laughs behind her. “That’s absolutely true. Let her pet the horse and she’ll adore you both.”

Anarchaia slides Koltira a nervous look. “I-I don’t do horses. You can do that without me.” She clears her throat. “I assume she’s in class right now? When will she be released?”

Koltira smiles kindly at Anarchaia. “Don’t worry, you can stand on the other side of the street.”

“So that’s a yes?” Alisbeth squeals before Taveth can answer Anarchaia.

“Yes.”

Taveth clears his throat to stop his cousin from saying more. “She’ll be out in…” He looks at the clock. “Goodness, is that the time? Noon? I have to get going. Oh! Two. She finishes at two. I’ll go collect my things and let her know to expect you outside the Enclave. Thank you!” He runs out the door to collect his things.

The mage nods despite her apprehension. “Sure. I’ll be there at two.”

“Thanks guys, I owe you one,” Grimory says with a smile and a wave before following Taveth out the door.

Alisbeth races close behind Grimory after a quick grin to the other two.

Anarchaia purses her lips after him. “Responsibility…”

Koltira taps his fingertips on the table. “You okay with watching a kid for one or two days?”

Anarchaia sips her coffee again. “It’s their kid. I don’t know. I feel like potential consequences are…heavier.” The corner of her mouth tightens. “But whatever. I’ve already said yes. What could possibly go wrong? Heh.”

“Well, knowing how Ali is—was… She’s probably pretty stubborn and a bit on the sneaky side. Ali used to hide these jerky strips all over the place because she’d been denied meals as punishment, so hiding jerky became a habit of hers. I found some in the case of a pillow. Expect that kind of cunning, I’d assume. Testing of our limits, like any child would.” Koltira reaches across the table and smiles, trying to reassure the mage while resisting voicing the thought on his mind.

Anarchaia fidgets before placing a hand over his. “You seem to know what to expect. Should be easier with you by my side.” She smiles. “Like everything else.”

Koltira chuckles. “I just work well under pressure.”

The mage can’t help but laugh. “One of us has got to, I suppose. Should we plan to take her somewhere or literally just watch her?”

Koltira shrugs. “Could take her somewhere, if you want.”

Anarchaia hums in thought. “But where that isn’t dangerous? Mayhaps it’s best we stay in the city…”

~ * ~

Taveth rushes from Greyfang Enclave to meet Alisbeth and Grimory; frazzled and stuffing papers into his satchel. “Sorry. I stopped to get my satchel enchanted. It’s waterproof now.” He stares behind him. “Diori had to finish one thing, but she wanted to come say goodbye to you two.”

Diori huffs as she runs as fast as her little legs can carry her. “Don’t leave yet!” She throws herself at Alisbeth, arms outstretched.

Alisbeth catches Diori and grips her tight. “I’m going to miss you so much. You know that?”

Diori pouts and hugs tightly, craning her neck back to look at Grimory. “I’ll miss you too.” Her upside-down eyes flick to Taveth. “When will you be back? Who’s coming to get me after school?”

Taveth smiles lightly. “We’ll be back either late tonight or sometime tomorrow. I promise. Koltira and Ana will be watching you.”

Diori blinks. “Mask lady and Koltira? Okay.” She releases Alisbeth and stirs at the dizziness from the lack of blood flow to her head. She hugs Grimory as well, then Taveth. “Please come back safe.”

The demon hunter laughs. “We’ll be fine. Ali and I know our way around a fight.”

“I won’t let anything happen to Taveth. I promise.” Alisbeth grins.

“All right,” Taveth untangles Diori from him, “time to get back to your lessons.”

The small elf pouts again and nods. “Okay. I want a souvenir!” She pokes Grimory in his exposed navel and giggles when he jerks away. “Bye! Love you!”

The demon hunter purses his lips. “We’ll bring you something back.” He hesitates then waves. “See you when we get back.”

Alisbeth spins on Grimory, a grin plastered across her face. “We should bring her a Naga tail!”

Taveth blinks and frowns. “We…shouldn’t.”

“Head? Yes! Head is much better.”

Taveth looks to Grimory for help.

The Illidari notes the pleading glance and grins. “Head is much better.”

Taveth lowers his brow at Grimory. “We’ll get her a nice shell or something.” He turns and heads for Krasus’ Landing.

Alisbeth laughs as she runs up behind him and slings an arm over his shoulder.

Grimory laughs and follows. “Oh c’mon! A shell is so girly! Maybe we should get her a spear! Or a staff!”

Taveth lowers his brow, but ignores the demon hunter.


	25. Chapter 25

Alisbeth’s mouth drops open as they crest the hill. “Woah! What happened here?”

Taveth chuckles. “It’s been technically abandoned for ten thousand years.”

Grimory kicks a stone and shrugs. “Looks like any other ruins to me. Only this one seems to be more important for some reason or another,” he says, addressing the Naga swarming the lands and water around the crumbling building.

“Fascinating,” Taveth muses. “I’ll have to find out why that is. It’s very curious, indeed.”

Alisbeth snorts. “You talk like such a nerd.”

Grimory stops to assess the scene below, tapping the space between his lower lip and chin with a blunt fingertip. “I don’t think we’ll even be able to get in there without a fight. I guess there’s a good reason you brought us, yeah?” He gently punches Taveth in the shoulder and grins. “Though, I’m sure you could handle it yourself.”

Taveth chuckles. “Oh, yes. Beneath my simple exterior lies powers beyond comprehension. I could turn them all to stone with one look!”

Alisbeth makes a face. “Doesn’t that imply that you’re ugly? You’re not ugly. Grim, is he ugly?” She grabs his head and turns him to stare at the Illidari.

The tips of Taveth’s ears turn a shade of pink.

Grimory inspects Taveth’s face with dramatic care, scratching at his beard with a finger. “Symmetrical eyes. Pointed nose. The best colored hair.” He shrugs and turns back to the path. “Nope. Not ugly.”

A quick blush graces Taveth’s cheeks, the disappears as he clears his throat and stares after the demon hunter. “We c-can agree to…disagree. Heh.” An odd tension about Grimory pulls at him, so he stuffs his hands in his pockets and keeps his eyes on the road as he follows.

Alisbeth rolls her eyes. “Oh, hush. I bet you’re a real lady-killer back home, huh?” She winks at him and nudges his side with an elbow. “It’s the purple eyes. Has to be. Bet it makes all the girls swoon.”

Grimory scoffs at the front. “Wouldn’t be surprised. I’m always amazed at how many girls I’ve lost to bookworms. Something about you nerds really tickles them.” He kicks a murloc as is nears with its spear raised. It gargles as it bounces off. “Easy so far.”

Taveth shakes his head. “Nope. No ladies. I must not be in the right library.”

Alisbeth snerks as the murloc goes tumbling away. “I doubt everything will be as easy as a murloc with a pointy stick.” She skips ahead, humming a random tune as she pokes Grimory’s nose, then continues on.

Grimory flinches and purses his lips. “I bet I can kill more Naga than you,” he hisses with a grin, kicking a small pebble so that it _thoks_ against the heel of her boot.

The lower lid of Taveth’s eye twitches. “We really only need to—”

“Nu-uh! I’ll totally get more than you!” Alisbeth takes off running for the ruins.

“Really,” he calls after her, “we don’t need to kill them all!”

Grimory throws himself onto a Naga spellcaster. The witch shrieks in surprise and the sound temporarily deafens him, but he plunges his claws into her scaly skull all the same. “One!” he calls after Alisbeth as both be and the woman fall forward. He leaps back to the sand and runs after the death knight.

Alisbeth hooks her axe into the neck of a naga and uses her momentum to spin around. The axe saws its way through the creature’s neck—she lets out a scream just before her head comes away from her body and rolls to the ground. “One for me!” She leaps at another.

Taveth flinches over and over, keeping his distance from the fighting. “Th-that’s really not… We don’t need to… Oh, gods… I’m going to be sick.”

Grimory ducks out of the way of a large harpoon as it sails past. He jerks his head in the direction of its origin and scowls at the Naga brute manning the massive gun. He inhales sharply then blows a cloud of emerald fire over his assailant. The Naga drops the spear he’d been loading into the gun and roars as his skin crisps. “Two!” Grimory calls with a laugh.

Alisbeth throws her axe at Grimory. It sails over his shoulder into the eye of a Naga slithering her way to the demon hunter. She runs over to him and smiles. “Two for me.” She kisses his shoulder and retrieves her axe, then charges for another Naga.

Grimory chuckles as he watches her go, then turns to Taveth and cocks his head in the direction of the academy. “What say we see how long she goes until she realizes she’s competing alone, yeah?”

Taveth squints after Alisbeth, who is laughing with pure joy as she plays a demented version of tag with a group of Naga. “You’re really just going to drop out of the game?”

Grimory shrugs and heads toward the large, weathered building. “The game has no rewards,” he laughs. “And she’s more than capable of killing them all on her own. Plus, we shouldn’t stray too far from you.”

Taveth purses his lips and eyes Alisbeth with a small amount of worry as she runs farther from them, then jolts and rushes after Grimory so as not to be left behind. “You’re sure she’s okay? I mean, she did die once before, right?”

Grimory chuckles and pats Taveth on the shoulder again. “She’ll be fine. You should have seen her at the Halls of Valor. Drove her axe into a brute’s spine. Rode him like a steed. Nearly trampled Ana.” He gives a hearty laugh. “She knows what she’s doing.”

“I-if you insist,” Taveth says.

Grimory glances over the tops of the crumbled pillars to keep an eye on Alisbeth, despite his uncaring attitude. “Unless you’d rather go help her,” he grins down at the man.

Taveth stiffens. “While the pen is mightier than the sword, I don’t believe the Naga will agree. Nor will they stop to listen before impaling me on a spear.”

Alisbeth runs up crumbling stairs and disappears through an archway. She cocks her eyebrow. “You’re not a Naga.”

The banshee’s wail echoes in the small tunnel. Alisbeth drops her axe to cover her ears.

Grimory furrows his brow at the sound and runs ahead to catch up. “Ali!” he calls, skidding to a halt when he sees her with her hands over her ears. His eyes turn on the banshee and he throws a silencing sigil beneath the specter before she can wail again.

Taveth taps his fingers on his satchel as he waits for the two to reappear. A shadow falls over the high elf. He turns slowly, then swallows as his eyes go wide.

Alisbeth glares at Grimory as she picks up her axe. “I have it under control! This one counts as mine!” She leaps at the banshee, hacking at the ghostly chest.

The banshee cries out as the weapon swipes through her ghastly form. She swipes at Alisbeth with a vengeance.

Grimory grunts, reaching to pull the death knight out of her path. “Then you’d know you need to use magic on ghosts!”

“I was going to! I’m not _stupid!_” Alisbeth shoves at him and throws two slithering crimson trails at the banshee to slowly eat away at its health. A swirling pool of blood flows from the banshee into Alisbeth’s palm before the creature explodes in a shimmer of light, leaving nothing behind but her silver bracelets.

Grimory furrows his brow at the woman. “I didn’t say you were. I was just wo—…making sure you had it under control.” He pricks his ears in sudden realization and glances behind him. “Taveth didn’t follow…” He frowns and makes his way back to the entrance with a rush in his steps.

The death knight widens her eyes and runs back out to the Academy grounds and frowns over the open space. “I don’t see him!”

Grimory throws rubble out of his way and toasts a pack of murlocs who object to the flying debris. “Where the hell did he go?!” he growls, scanning the stone floor for signs.

Alisbeth cocks an eyebrow at a huge Myrmidon scrabbling beneath a fallen stone, as though it’s lost something. “You think he’s looking for his glasses? Or something else?” she asks, pointing it out to Grimory.

He scowls at the Naga and picks up a large stone. He hurls it at the monster’s head; the scaled man jerks forward. He turns to glower at the two, trident raised as he rushes at them.

Grimory steps out of the way to go to the rubble he’d been digging in. “Tav?”

Taveth jumps and grips his satchel tighter to his chest as Grimory appears in the opening of the rubble. “G-Grim! Heh. I, uh, m-made a friend. Heh.” The Myrmidon roars at Alisbeth, and Taveth jolts into a little ball again.

“So, you did.”

Alisbeth does her best to make quick work of the strong beast. “Is he under there?”

The Illidari turns to call to Alisbeth. “Yeah, he’s here.” He summons his oversized, smoking claws. “Sit tight.” He leaps over and grabs the Myrmidon by his tail, his nails digging under the scales, then pulls. The Naga turns, slashing with his trident, but ultimately misses.

While the Naga is distracted, Alisbeth launches off a chunk of broken pillar and leaps at him, planting her axe in his eye.

The Myrmidon gives a short cry that is interrupted by the blade piercing its brain. It falls to the ground in a heap, the trident skidding across the stone. The tip of its tail twitches.

Grimory grins over at Alisbeth. “Well done.” He turns his head. “You can come out, Tav. Unless you’re buried in _there_, too.”

Taveth crawls out from under the slab and dusts himself off. “No, I was under there _intentionally_. For the record, I think speaking their own language to them makes them even angrier.”

Alisbeth laughs and yanks her axe out, then goes to throw an arm over her cousin’s shoulder. “I bet you insulted his mom accidentally.”

“I did _not_.”

“Bet you did _so_.” She sticks out her tongue and musses up his hair.

“You seem like the kind to reason your way out of a fight,” Grimory says, brushing himself off. “Let’s just avoid them altogether for a bit, yeah?” He heads inside and leans over the edge of the crumbled balcony to observe the trickling water and collapsed pillars. “Older on the inside than it looks on the outside.”

“It’s also bigger on the inside,” Taveth says. He purses his lips at the rubble. “I really don’t feel like walking down an unsteady ramp, but I don’t see any other way down.”

“Could always jump into the water.” Alisbeth grins at him.

He shoots her an incredulous look.

“How much do you weigh?” Grimory says down to the man. “Seven? Eight stone?”

Taveth blinks. “I don’t know. What’s it got to do with anything?”

Grimory grins wide. “How far down you think it is?”

Taveth side steps away from the man, eyeing him warily. “Two stories, at least.”

Grimory steps forward, hands slightly lifted in a menacing fashion, and eyes bright with mischief. “That ain’t so far, yeah?”

Taveth swallows. “Y-you wouldn’t…”

Alisbeth giggles. “If he doesn’t, I might.”

Grimory waits a moment for the sake of suspense, then lunges forward to grab Taveth about the waist and lift him over his head.

Acting on instinct and self-preservation alone, Taveth’s arms snap forward to grip the demon hunter wherever he can get a firm hold. His left hand wraps around a curling horn; the other finds a place behind the man’s head. Once in place, he pulls, trying to get away from being held out in the air. Strange memories flash into his mind. His eyes go wide and he gasps, then pulls his hands back as though he might get bitten.

Grimory takes the opportunity to step up on the banister. He takes another step forward and the two fall straight down. Just before they reach the water, he spreads his wings to slow their descent and lands lightly upon a piece of rubble poking from the water instead. “You’re lucky you’re wearing that satchel.” He sets Taveth down beside him and looks up to Alisbeth. “You coming?”

Taveth steps away from the demon hunter, shaking from the shock of both the fall and what had entered his mind. _It’s not real. It had to have been a dream. Now shake it off, and avoid telling him your satchel is enchanted to be waterproof, so he doesn’t toss you in. He’s just a bully. A mean, womanizing, mindless…selfless, strong, handsome, char— No! Stop it!_ Taveth clears his throat and adjusts the strap on his shoulder. He turns on his heel and follows the curve of the narrow, sunken tower, side-stepping two spirits fighting a book flapping about like a bird.

“Coming!” Alisbeth leaps over the edge and curls into a ball. The water splashes up around her. She pushes to the surface with a smile, then climbs out onto a patch of ice forming around her.

Grimory flinches as a wave of water washes over him and flattens his hair, making it stick to his face. He scrunches his face and sets to fixing it. “Thanks,” he drones sarcastically and trots after Taveth. “Come on, Cannonball.”

Alisbeth giggles as she races ahead to wrap her cold, wet arms around Taveth. He jumps and yanks away from her, but she holds fast.

“You’re _freezing!_”

“I am _not!_”

“Let go of me!”

“_But I want to hugs you, Tabbef!_”

“You’re going to give me hypothermia!”

He finally shakes loose from her, then spins to berate her for the childish behavior. His foot hooks on a piece of rubble and he stumbles backward.

Shortly after chuckling at the exchange, Grimory takes a deft step forward and grabs Taveth by the front of his vest. “You’ve got to be the clumsiest man I’ve ever met, Tav.” He pulls the man forward to settle him on his feet once again. He elbows Alisbeth and smirks. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

Taveth dusts himself off, ignoring the heat at the tips of his ears as they turn a dark pink. “I’m not usually so uncoordinated, I’ll have you know.” He looks away from the demon hunter and clears his throat.

Alisbeth laughs. “Then how do you explain all the bruises as a kid?”

“You play too rough.”

She grins. “Yeah… Yeah, I do.” She punches his arm and takes off running.

Taveth blinks after her. “I’m not going to tell her that this is where we’re going.” He points at an opening in the wall with a stair case leading even farther down.

Grimory gives a hearty laugh and heads in the direction indicated. “Didn’t know you were such a vengeful person. I like it.” He observes a dusty, barely recognizable painting as they pass. The eyes on the figure depicted glow with an eerie light and he looks away. “Mage stuff.”

“Do you have a problem with mages?” Taveth asks.

Grimory turns. “Hm? Oh, no. Their stuff just creeps me out. Moving pictures? Brooms that sweep by themselves?” He shudders. “Like straight out of a horror novel.”

Taveth cocks an eyebrow. “You’d hate living at my house, then. My sister is a mage and I’ve a brother who finally decided that’s what he wants to do with his life, instead of being a general hooligan.”

“Sounds _magical_.”

“You _left_ me!” Alisbeth squeals, hopping down the stairs after them.

Grimory laughs at the squeaking death knight behind them, not bothering to turn and look at her. “Did we? Or did you just go the wrong way?”

Alisbeth jumps onto Grimory’s back. “No, you left me. ‘Cause you didn’t say anything. And that’s mean.” She snuggles her face into the back of his head.

Grimory grabs her thighs to support her weight and shrugs. “You don’t seem to upset about it. Guess I’m not in that much trouble.” They descend another flight of stairs to find a pair of ghosts dueling with wands, the one ducking only a moment too late as her large, pointed hat is blown off her head by a spell.

Alisbeth gasps excitedly and squirms. She pats Grimory’s shoulder rapidly. “I want the hat. _I want the hat!_”

Taveth grips her bicep. “_Don’t_ steal her hat.”

Alisbeth whines. “But…” She makes a disgruntled moaning noise.

Grimory snerks as they traverse the narrow corridor. “We can get you a similar one in Dalaran.” He grips her tighter as she squirms.

“But I want _that_ one!” the death knight whines.

Without a word, Taveth reaches into his satchel and pulls out a candy cane. Alisbeth snatches it from him and pops it into her mouth, then wraps her arms around Grimory, seeming to have already forgotten the hat.

“Not sure why I’ve never thought of that,” the demon hunter mumbles as they near the end of the corridor.


	26. Chapter 26

Anarchaia glances at the clock as she finishes her last stop of the day. She crosses the item off her list and accepts the box of baked goods, then smiles up at Koltira. “Thank you for your help. The last thing to do is bring these back to Master and let him know I’ll finish the list tomorrow.” She tilts her head. “Still want to accompany me further? Heh.”

“Eh…” Koltira pretends to consider it for a moment. “Well, after the last time I visited the Hall of the Guardian, I think it best I stay behind.”

Anarchaia chuckles and reaches a finger up to poke his cheek. “That’s fine. Meet me at the entrance to the Enclave in fifteen minutes?”

Koltira smiles. “Will do. And don’t worry, I won’t bring Bloodmist. Not yet, anyway.”

Anarchaia gives a nervous smile. “Just…warn me beforehand, if you’d be so kind.” She checks beneath the cloth of the basket to make sure she has the correct order, then leans up to kiss his cheek where she’d poked him. “See you soon!” Light encases her form and she disappears, the baker shouting in her wake.

Having nothing better to do, Koltira heads straight for the toy shop across from the entrance to Greyfang Enclave and sits on the steps to wait.

Minutes pass until Anarchaia exits the Enclave, Diori’s small hand in her own as they walk. “You know Koltira?” she says down at the young elf as though they hadn’t all just been together a day before.

Diori nods and waves as they near, excitement and curiosity in her bright blue eyes. “Good afternoon!” she sings.

Koltira allows himself a smile at the little girl. “Good morning, Diori. How were your lessons?”

Diori’s smile widens. “Good! I’m learning to summon shadow beasts!” She makes a growling noise.

Anarchaia chuckles. “Are you finding it easy?”

“No,” she admits, deflating. “It’s hard, but I can do it!”

Koltira laughs. “It just takes practice. By the time I was fifty I was getting pretty good with the bow. My arrows, on the other hand, were terrible. None of them could fly straight. But I just kept making them and learning from the mistakes.” He smiles up at Anarchaia. “She didn’t become a great mage overnight, either.”

Anarchaia flushes and chuckles with a wave of her hand. “Great is gratuitous.”

Diori smiles at the death knight’s encouraging words. “Ali and Grim tried to teach me to shoot a bow. They weren’t very good, though. How long did it take you to get it right?”

Koltira thinks about it. “Oh, it’s been so long… Um, I think I was able to consistently at least hit the target within a year of practicing every day. It took a little longer to always hit the bullseye, and finally, to hit a moving target. But I’m sure a shadow fiend won’t take that long.”

Diori’s eyes go wide with wonder and disappointment. “Every day?” she groans.

Anarchaia smiles and tugs on her hand. “You’re in class nearly every day. That’s similar, isn’t it?”

Diori scrunches her face. “I suppose. But so far I can only do this.” She holds up her little hand and purple smoke swirls from the cobblestone. A shadow beast—lethargic and a fraction the size of a proper one—manifests and gives a whine as it looks about, then hisses and bites at Diori’s ankle. The girl frowns down at it, obviously in no pain. “And it won’t listen.”

“Then you run down a list to make sure it’s not something else distracting you.” He stands and absently takes her hand to guide her to the Legerdemain Lounge. “I happen to know that your mother could _never_ concentrate if she was hungry. Are you hungry, Diori?”

The shadow beast disappears in a cloud of thick purple smoke.

Diori thinks about it for a long moment. “I had lunch, but it’s almost snack time. Are you guys hungry too?”

Anarchaia gives a quiet laugh from Diori’s other side. “We’re fine. That’s kind of you to inquire, however.”

“I don’t eat,” Koltira says. “Ana…is shy. So why don’t you just let us know when you’re hungry, okay?” He purses his lips when he realizes neither he nor Anarchaia had planned anything to occupy the girl for the rest of the day.

“Okay!” Diori tugs on Anarchaia’s robes as they walk. “You shouldn’t be shy. You’ll miss out on stuff. Is that why you wear that mask?”

The mage gives another, more nervous laugh. “Perhaps you two should go to the stables. See the horses?”

Koltira purses his lips even tighter. “Bloodmist is in Acherus. She doesn’t get along with other horses. I can go get her now, if you like?” he asks Diori.

Diori’s eyes light up as she jerks her head to look up at Koltira. She jumps up and down in excitement while pulling on his hand. “_Yes!_”

Koltira chuckles. “Okay, you stay with Ana. I’ll be right back.” He sets a hand on Anarchaia’s shoulder. “I’ll be at the archways before Krasus Landing. You can stay across the street. I’m sure Diori can make it that far on her own safely.” He opens a death gate, then pauses to give the mage a reassuring glance.

Anarchaia gives a meek nod. “Sure. We’ll be there.”

Diori scrunches her face up at the mage. “You don’t like horses?” She follows willingly when her hand is taken, then scrunches her face and squeezes Anarchaia’s fingers. “Your fingers are really bony. If you weren’t so shy you’d eat more, right?”

Anarchaia titters and furrows her brow. “You ask a lot of questions…”

Koltira returns shortly, Bloodmist’s reigns in his hand.

Anarchaia points up the stairs toward Krasus’ Landing. “Just through that door.”

“Okay, let’s go!” Diori pulls Anarchaia up the stairs with no regard for the mage’s malcontent. She waves excitedly to Koltira when she sees him again, then gasps at the sight of the horse and bounds forward. “_So cool!_”

Koltira releases Bloodmist’s reins and rushes to grab Anarchaia and drag her away from the horse. Bloodmist makes to follow, but stops and stares down at the little girl, snorting once in curiosity.

“You okay?” he asks as he sets her on her feet at what he hopes is a good distance.

Anarchaia smiles with equal parts gratitude and terror. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. You didn’t have to…” She swallows, her heart threatening to pound from her chest.

Diori stares in wonderment up at the horse’s armor-clad head and glowing eyes. She reaches up to pat the mare on its fuzzy nose, too distracted and amused to reprimand the mage’s cowardice.

The deathcharger snuffles the girl’s hair, then pushes her nose into Diori’s palm, urging more pets.

Koltira smirks down at the forsaken girl and chuckles. “No reason to try being brave. You stay here, okay?” He kisses her forehead and goes to crouch beside Diori. “Here, feed her this.” He holds out an apple, wrinkling and covered in brown spots.

Anarchaia flushes at the kiss but sticks out her lower lip. She taps the tips of her index fingers together. “Okay.”

Diori takes the apple and scrunches her face. “Sticky.” She sticks out her tongue before raising the apple to the horse’s mouth. “Tasty!” she sings up to the creature.

Bloodmist takes the apple gingerly into her teeth, then snuffles the girl’s palm for more as she chews.

“Don’t be greedy, Bloodmist.”

She snorts at Koltira, then noses the girl in the chest.

Diori wraps her arms around the horse’s muzzle and giggles as she squeezes it in a hug. “I only had one!” She looks over her shoulder at the mage. “Maybe mask lady has one!”

Anarchaia perks and waves her hands. “N-no! No apples here! Heh.”

Bloodmist lifts her head slowly, then swings the little girl side-to-side.

Koltira smiles wide at the sight. “She likes you. I have another apple, if you’d like to feed her more?”

Diori laughs in delight as she’s swung, kicking her legs. “Yes, please!” She lets go to hold out her hands eagerly and bounces on her feet.

Anarchaia folds her arms and shifts her weight to a hip. Her nervous grin softens to one of endearment.

Koltira fishes another apple from the small burlap sack at his belt and holds it out to Diori. “She likes her nose being stroked while you feed her the apples.” He turns to smile at Anarchaia.

Bloodmist tilts her head, slowly going for the apple in his hand.

“Don’t even think about it, Bloodmist,” Koltira says without looking at the mare.

The horse snaps back to her former position and waits patiently.

Diori takes the apple and makes to hold it out then purses her lips and turns around to Anarchaia. “You do one!”

“Uh. No. I’m quite—”

“She’s a really nice horse! She won’t hurt you!” She pouts in indignance. “You’ll never get over your fear if you avoid doing stuff to help.”

The mage flinches at the small girl’s sudden bluntness. She taps her fingers one last time before striding over and taking the apple out of Diori’s hand. She cringes as the sticky rot gets on her clean gloves, then holds it out for Bloodmist, hand shaking. “Please don’t bite me,” she mumbles, her lips a thin line of determination.

Sensing the mage’s fear, Bloodmist takes a tentative step and sniffs at the apple. She looks at the mage, then the apple, then the mage again. She pinches the apple in her teeth, then pulls it quickly away to eat it.

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “You’re scaring her,” he says to Anarchaia.

Anarchaia retracts her hand the second the apple is lifted from it, recoiling with shoulders raised. “_She’s_ scaring _me!_”

Diori pats the horse on the shoulder in an attempt to calm her. “It’s okay,” she coos. She turns to Anarchaia with a smile. “See? She’s nice!”

The mage furrows her brow, still apprehensive. “Animals can’t be _nice_…”

“Saying animals can’t be nice is like saying people can’t be nice.” Koltira takes Anarchaia’s hand. “And she’s only scared because you are. Relax. She won’t hurt you.”

Anarchaia tenses and purses her lips. “People are far more intelligent and capable of empathy and compassion. Animals…”

Diori puts her hands on her hips and scowls. “You’re hurting her feelings!” She gestures to the otherwise unoffended horse. “Give her another apple!”

Anarchaia flinches and smiles down at Diori. “I don’t think she likes me much. Heh.”

Koltira pats Bloodmist’s flank and the horse bumps her head against him. “Horses are more intelligent than you give them credit. They’re capable of loyalty, affection—”

Bloodmist pushes against him to get to the bag of apples.

“_Gluttony._ No, Bloodmist.”

She stops nosing at him and straightens, waiting for one of them to give her a treat.

“And they follow commands. They can be trained for battle, as she was, and even be trained to dance.” He gives Anarchaia an encouraging smile as he holds out another, less sticky apple. “Give it another try. Don’t be so scared, she can sense it.”

Diori titters and watches as she rubs her palms over the horse’s armor. “You really like those apples, hm?” She drums on Bloodmist’s flank with both hands.

Anarchaia swallows and takes the apple with reluctance. Unable to keep her fingers from trembling, she again holds it out to the animal and decides to reserve her words. Her lips purse and she tries to steady herself.

Bloodmist steps forward and sniffs the mage’s chest before turning her head to gently nip the apple from the woman’s hand with her lips. She presses her nose into the open palm as she chews on the treat.

Koltira smiles. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

Anarchaia can’t help but whimper, turning her head away and clenching her eyes shut. “I-I suppose not.”

Diori pulls on the horse’s saddle and bounces, whispering “Give her a kiss!”

The deathcharger turns her head to Diori as her saddle is tugged. She snorts at the child and gives a soft whinny.

Diori laughs at the horse and plants a kiss on her nose. “I’ll kiss _you_ instead!”

“You don’t have to stick around. You did good.” Koltira sets a palm to the mage’s cheek.

Anarchaia nods and backs away, wringing her hands in the throes of her anxiety. “Thanks. Perhaps I’ll leave you two to it…”

Guilt hits Koltira as she retreats. “I’m sorry. I’ll take Bloodmist back and we can do something else.”

Anarchaia shakes her head. “No, no! Don’t be sorry. If I didn’t want to do it I wouldn’t have. Heh.” She swallows and frowns. “Though, I’d prefer to do something we all can enjoy. I hear the Darkmoon Faire is back…”

Diori gasps loudly and abandons the horse to bounce on her heels. “_The Darkmoon Faire is back?!_ Can we go?! Pleeeeease?”

Koltira shrugs. “I’m willing to go to the Faire. Let me just take Bloodmist back and we can go.” He calls up a death gate and takes the mare through.

Diori grabs onto Anarchaia’s robes and continues to bounce excitedly. “I want to ride _all_ the rides! And play _all_ the games! You think Mister Koltira could win me a giant stuffed zhevra?”

The mage can’t help but chortle. She bends down and grins to the girl. “I bet he could win you twenty. We can do whatever you’d like.” She brushes Diori’s hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear, her smile turning somber. “You’re a very pretty girl. You know that?”

Diori smiles and blushes, reaching over to poke Anarchaia in the nose. “I bet you are, too!”

Koltira returns and smiles at the two. “Okay, what say we first wash our hands, _then_ we head to the Darkmoon Faire?”

Anarchaia looks down at her glove and nods. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.” She extends an unsoiled hand to Diori and pushes up her mask to smile. “Have you seen the fountain here?”

Diori takes the mage’s hand and holds out her other for Koltira to take. “Uh-huh. But not up close.”

After minutes of preparation, the three finally arrive outside the gates of the Darkmoon Faire. Figures wobble on springs and the great eye on the archway sparkles in the never ending moonlight. Anarchaia gives a sigh from the effort of again teleporting three people at once. “I don’t understand how Master does it,” she murmurs, glancing around for a food stand.

“Carousel!” Diori sings, pulling the two in the direction of the ride.

“We need tickets, first,” Anarchaia explains and gently pulls her back. “You two go wait in line and I’ll procure some, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Koltira says. He takes Diori’s hand and takes her to the carousel line.

Diori smiles up at Koltira. “Are you gonna ride with me?” she asks in a sweet tone, eyes wide and pleading.

Koltira gives a pained smile, but finds he has no willpower against her pleading face. “Of course, I will.”

Diori’s grin widens and she tugs on his hand as she again bounces on her feet.

“Here.” Anarchaia bends down to hand the girl a ticket, grinning. “I’ve gotten some tokens as well, should you want to play any games—”

The little elf again pokes Anarchaia in the center of her face. “You come, too!” Diori grabs the ticket and runs forward as the line shortens, dragging Koltira with her.

Koltira makes a noise as he’s yanked along. “Yes, Ana, come with us.” He gives her a pleading look.

The mage grins at his expression. “Ugh,” she sighs dramatically. “You know I can’t say no to you.” She hands over the tickets as the trio nears the front of the line. When on board, she chooses a rather angry looking dragon and sits side-saddle on its back.

Diori hops on a murloc and kicks her legs excitedly as she waits for the mechanism to spin. “Go! Go! Go!” she chants while others are still getting on.

Koltira finds a wyvern and leans against it, crossing his ankles and folding his arms. He keeps a steady eye on Diori as others crowd into the area.

Anarchaia kicks her feet idly as the carousel spins and music plays over the speakers. She chuckles at Koltira’s demeanor. “Having fun?”

“Yes!” Diori yells excitedly as though the question was intended for her, blond hair swirling in the gentle breeze.

Koltira directs a smile to the mage. “Oodles.”

Anarchaia laughs. Once back and weaving through the masses, she points out a tent to the death knight while grasping Diori’s hand with the other. “There’s an ale tent. Perhaps that’s more your kind of ride?”

“I want ale!” Diori chirps. “I bet it’s tasty. It has to be good if grownups are drinking it all the time, right?”

Koltira sighs longingly at the ale tent, then jolts at Diori’s request. “I don’t think ale falls under the approved beverages for you.”

Diori pouts. “Why not?” She blinks and her tiny ears prick. “Because it makes grownups act stupid?”

Anarchaia laughs and pats Diori atop her head. “That’s exactly right. It’s poison for your brain.” She pokes the girl on the forehead.

“Then why do you guys drink so much?”

“Well we’re already de—” She pauses and retracts her hand. “We just can.” She turns her attention to Koltira again and fidgets. “You getting one?” _Because I could definitely use one, too._

Koltira looks from Diori to Anarchaia and back again. His sense of duty overrides his desire to join the mage for a pint. “I think I’ll have what Diori is having. You can have one if you’d like.” He reaches out to squeeze her hand.

Anarchaia smiles, somewhat disappointed at his refusal to be irresponsible, but simultaneously grateful. She looks down at Diori. “And what _are_ you having?”

Diori pulls her in the direction of a snack stand. “Look! Cake on a stick! And fizzy juice! That’s what I want!”

The mage obliges, exchanging coin for the items and handing them over. She turns her grin back on Koltira. “Stick cake for you as well?” she chuckles.

Koltira makes a face, then smiles. “I’ll pass. Just fizzy juice, I guess.”

Diori eats her cake in as few bites as possible and hands the stick back as Anarchaiais handing Koltira a wooden cup. “Zoo!” she yips and releases the mage’s hand to run off toward the attraction.

Anarchaia jumps at the pitter-patter of her feet fading away, then follows in a rush. “Diori! Hon! Hold on, don’t stray too far, please!”

Koltira rolls his eyes and hands the cup and some gold to the concessions handler. He runs after them, turning a pale blue to walk as a wraith to catch up. When near enough, he throws out a purple tendril to grab the girl and pull her to him. Diori cries out as she’s jerked backward. She pouts as she comes face-to-face with Koltira.

“Don’t go running off on your own, girlie. I’d hate to have to tell your parents that the Darkmoon Rabbit gnawed your head right off!”

Her eyes widen at his words. “Darkmoon Rabbit?” she whispers in a terrified hush.

Anarchaia turns on her heel as Diori sails past. “Kolt, don’t scare her,” she hisses.

Koltira ignores Anarchaia and gives a frightening grin as he sets the girl down and kneels to be face to face with her. “Oh, yes. The Darkmoon Rabbit. They say he’s got eyes like a devil and big pointy teeth, and his fur is perpetually stained red from feasting on Faire attendants who get lost. But he’s not even the worst. Every day the Den Mother howls in the woods.” He pauses as a howl echoes in the woods behind the Faire. “Best stay with us, right?”

Diori’s brows furrow upward and her eyes glisten with tears and terror. She throws her arms around Koltira and hugs him as tight as her little arms allow. “_No!_” she cries. “I don’t wanna be eaten!”

Anarchaia scoffs and presses her palms into her hips. “_Koltira,_” she snaps in disapproval. “Fear is not the proper way to convince someone of something—especially a _child_.”

Koltira laughs and hugs Diori. “You won’t be eaten if you don’t run away. I promise. Tell you what, how about you hold onto the Redblade. It’ll keep you safe.” He reaches back and takes the sword, then holds it where she can grab it.

Diori’s wet eyes grow wide as she looks at the handle. “Really? I can?” She grasps the weapon and the handle changes colors.

A nearby guard shifts uncomfortably at the sight.

“Just be careful,” Anarchaia says quietly, still irritated. “We don’t want to be ejected from the grounds.”

“It’ll be fine, right Diori? She’s not going to swing the sword or poke anyone with it. But I’ll have to take it back for the petting zoo. You don’t want to scare the animals, right?” He laughs and taps her nose.

Diori thrusts the blade into the air with a cry, but is only able to hold it there for a moment before its weight overwhelms her and it drops to the dirt. “I wanna watch the races, then!”

Anarchaia gives a sigh of relief. “Races it is, then.” She assists Diori in placing the blade across her shoulders and leads her toward the shore.

Koltira gives the guard a look and follows the girls at a short distance.

The race is short and sweet with a gnome girl—head crowned with blue hair—holding up the trophy at the finish line.

Diori pouts. “I wanted the pretty human lady to win.”

Anarchaia titters. “Most times the ones you want to win don’t, sweetie. The odds are poor. Always.”

Diori glances over at the people inside the gambling tent. “So why do people place bets?”

“Because they’re stupid,” the mage mutters. “Better they throw their coin to the fishes.”

Koltira picks Diori up onto his shoulder so she can see into the betting tent. “It’s not _stupidity_,” he gives Anarchaia a look. “For some people the race itself isn’t exciting enough, so they compensate by wagering money and hoping they don’t lose. The trick is to know when to stop.” He grabs the mage by the hand and drags her closer, wrapping his free arm around her. “Right, Ana?”

Anarchaia purses her lips and glances away but leans her shoulder into him all the same. “That’s _not untrue_,” she mumbles in defeat.

Diori scrunches her face in thought. “Can we place bets? Ooh! Then we can buy one of every prize in the park—without even having to play games, I bet!” She kicks her legs gently and readjusts the sword on her shoulders.

Koltira cringes. “I’m not fond of placing bets. It can be very bad if you lose. How about we place bets with each other?”

Diori blinks down and grasps one of Koltira’s ears to steady herself. She mulls this over, then bounces. “Yes! What’s the prize?”

“One thing of the winner’s choosing depending on the person. Does that sound fair?” the mage says.

Diori narrows her blue eyes then nods. “Yes.” She again kicks her feet idly.

Koltira smirks at Anarchaia. “That sounds very fair. I bet you each a kiss on the cheek that the Gnome wins the next round.”

Diori sets a hand on her hip and puffs out her chest. “I still want the human lady to win.”

Anarchaia sighs, defeated. “I’ll just bet on the goblin, then.” She waves a hand. “Though I suppose I can’t lose any money on this, so that’s a plus.” She pauses. “Just some dignity.”

Koltira chuckles. “You never know.”

After another few minutes of sweets on sticks, juice, and waiting for the next race, the three return to their spots on the sidelines. The weight of the Redblade has burdened Diori’s shoulder so she switches arms. In her effort, however, she drops the blade and it lands directly on an orc man’s toes. The man growls and turns quickly on Anarchaia, who by happenstance is directly beside him.

“You got a fuckin’ problem, kid?” he grunts angrily.

The mage jumps and glances down at the blade then back up. She raises her hands defensively. “I-I didn’t—!” She pauses, glancing at Diori—the small girl wringing her hands in apprehension. “I’m sorry,” Anarchaia continues. “I wasn’t watching where—”

The man’s fist collides hard with Anarchaia’s sternum and she’s knocked into the patrons behind her. “You’ll watch next time, now, won’t you?” he laughs, pushing up his sleeves.

Ice flows around the orc’s ankles, preventing him from moving. He grunts in anger, his glare deepening on Anarchaia.

Koltira lifts the sword and clears his throat. “Excuse me, but you owe the lady an apology.”

The orc sneers, glancing down at his feet then the blade. “That’s what passes for a lady these days? My armor has bigger tits.” He and a couple of his red-skinned friends laugh.

The crowd has circled around the bunch. A Draenei woman assists Anarchaia to her feet with sympathy in her glowing eyes.

“It’s fine,” she says quietly to Koltira, a hand over her chest. “Let’s just go.”

Koltira clenches his teeth. “No. He had no reason to hit you. You deserve an apology.” He sets his glare on the orc. “Or else.”

The orc laughs down at him and cracks his knuckles. “Or else what? You’ll cut me with your teeny sword? All you elves think you’re hot shit, but you’re all just women disguised as men.”

Anarchaia hesitates. “We’ll be ejected if we start anything.”

Koltira presses his tongue into his cheek. “I’m not starting anything, he is. I’m just going to finish it.”

The orc men laugh together. “Good luck, punk,” the front-most orc grunts and sends a fist toward Koltira’s face. Before he can make contact, however, his torso twists to punch his friend instead. His fanged face falls in confusion and he turns on Anarchaia, who lowers her free hand and scowls.

“Stop this foolishness,” she hisses.

But the man has already broken free of his icy bonds and is lunging toward her with fury in his eyes.

Koltira plucks the man back and freezes his feet once more. “Look, normally I’d have thrown you and all of your friends to the dirt by now, but I’d really hate to get thrown out. You see I promised this little girl—” He glances as he motions, then stops. “Diori? Ana, where’s Diori?”


	27. Chapter 27

A number of spectral students talk in the recesses of an oblong chamber, barricaded on either side by massive doors glittering with violet energy.

The corners of Grimory’s lips tighten. “This place is creepy.”

Taveth rolls his eyes, his excitement for the knowledge contained within the library paling all other things. “Hello! I am Taveth Nightheart of Stormwind. I believe you are expecting me.”

The incorporeal being blinks at him. “Yes, but I’m sorry, you cannot be permitted inside. No outsiders, headmistress’s orders.”

“Is there anything we can—”

“I will break down this door!” Alisbeth screams, grabbing for her axe and wiggling to get out of Grimory’s grasp.

The demon hunter grunts at the shifting weight and struggles to hold her tighter. “Ali, while I’m usually for the occasional bouts of destruction, I think we should not break anything here.” He pulls his ears back and furrows his brow at the ghostly mage. “Can we speak with this headmistress?”

The spirits exchange a look. “No. But you can disguise yourselves as one of us. I’m sure there are students willing to lend you something.”

Alisbeth wiggles in excitement, gripping Grimory’s horns. She hiss-whispers into his ear, “Get me the hat! _Get me the hat!_”

Taveth smiles kindly. “Right. We’ll get right on that.”

“Oh!” The other spirit stops him. “Your friends look like the sort that can handle a fight…could you please take care of a few of those enchanted books? They’re real pests.”

Alisbeth bounces, too excited to hold still or care about the demon hunter’s comfort. “I’m gonna kill a book!”

Grimory grunts again and grits his fangs together in pain, then finally gives in and sets Alisbeth down. He rubs at his skull. “I don’t think you can technically _kill_ them, Ali.” He nods to the specters and turns back to the hallway. “And I’d prefer to not wear nerd robes if that’s all right.”

Taveth grins. “Oh, no. You heard the mage. Have to blend in. Nerd robes for all.”

As they pass the dueling pair, Alisbeth swoops down to scoop up the fallen hat. She giggles and stuffs it on her head. “It feels weird. Do I look great?”

Taveth turns to answer, but stops. “Curious.” The spirit mage is wearing a new hat, which is promptly knocked to the floor again. “Very curious.”

Grimory sneers at the aspect of wearing what he considers to be a dress. He smiles at Alisbeth despite his inward grumbling. “Yes, you do,” he responds, then turns back to Taveth. “If by _curious_ you mean _creepy_.” With an outstretched hand he catches the hat as it again sails through the air, then stuffs the open end over Taveth’s face. “Then, yes. Curious.” He grabs one for himself and places it atop his head, but his horns deny it further wearing. He scowls.

Alisbeth reaches up and yanks down on the brim of the hat on Grimory’s head. “Just gotta make it work. Oh! That’s a good catch phrase. _Make it work!_” She snaps her fingers sassily. “Does it work?”

Taveth grimaces, trying to smile, but turns away and trots up the steps instead of answering.

Grimory winces as he hears the seams tear, then adjusts the hat so that he may see past the brim better. He gives a grimace similar to Taveth’s. “Nothing can make these wizard hats work, I’d say.” He pulls the edge of her hat down over her eyes and chuckles before he follows Taveth up the steps.

Alisbeth races after Grimory. She stops before running into Taveth.

“Hmm,” he muses. “Do you think that works the same way?” He points at a staff on the ground behind a mage too engrossed in her book to notice him.

“Only one way to find out, yeah?” Grimory kicks the staff over with the toe of his boot. It rolls across the floor for several feet and another appears in its previous position beside the uncaring mage. “Creepy,” the Illidari mutters, lower eyelids raising.

Taveth purses his lips. “This time I’m inclined to agree with you.”

Alisbeth grabs up the stray staff, then the one beside the mage. She waits for another to pop up, then grabs it. She waits again and gets another staff. Soon her arms are filled. “I’ve got staves for ages! I’ll be the most powerful mage _ever!_”

Grimory slides one of them out of her arms and taps her atop the head with it. “Better alert the old man. We’ve a new Guardian in our midst.” He flicks the hat off the sitting mage and saunters off in the direction they were heading. “Now for robes.” He scoffs. “Definitely not gonna find any that fit me.”

Alisbeth drops the bundle of staves and grabs her head. “Ow!”

Taveth stoops and takes two staves, shoving one at her. “You’ll be fine. Come on.”

She sticks out her lower lip to pout, but takes the staff and follows him.

Grimory stops at a sleeping mage on a tattered rug, his eyes covered by a tome. “Ali,” the demon hunter calls back with a grin. “Do what you do best and disrobe this guy, yeah?”

Alisbeth scowls and sticks her nose in the air. “I take offense to that.” She turns away from him and begins beating a book with her ghostly staff.

Taveth purses his lips at both of them and backs away, hoping to remain unnoticed.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows and taps his boot against the sleeping specter’s calf. “A silly thing to take offense to. How else do you suggest we acquire robes? I’m sure as shit not undressing anyone.” He swats away another book as its flapping pages flutter toward his head.

“Oh, come on, Grim. Is it because he didn’t buy you a pint, first?” Taveth laughs, then snaps his lips closed and turns away to blush at a bookshelf. “Sorry,” he mutters.

The Illidari narrows his eyes at the shorter man. “I reckon we’ll go robeless, then.” The bloodthirsty book nears again. His patience drained, he snatches the enchanted tome from the air and tears it in two then throws the pieces to the ground.

Taveth rolls his eyes and stoops to undress the sleeping man. The robes instead slip through the spirit and into his fist. The high elf shudders and steps away. “Creepy.”

Grimory furrows his brow and does the same, pulling off two copies of robes before standing upright. “Honestly,” he scoffs and takes off his hat to throw one of the sets of robes over his head. He looks down at himself and sneers. “Hideous.”

Alisbeth giggles behind the demon hunter. “You two look…so handsome.” She tugs to help adjust Taveth’s robes.

The tips of Taveth’s ears turn a shade of pink, betraying his discomfort. “You’re allowed to have your own opinions, no matter how wrong they may be.”

“Here,” Grimory holds out a third set of robes to Alisbeth. “Don’t you want to look as handsome as we?” He smirks

Alisbeth slips the robes on, then smashes her hat onto her head and grabs her staff. “You mean more handsome! Ha!” She hooks her arm in his and drags him to another book, which she begins to beat with her staff.

Grimory grins to himself. “Debatable.” He blows fire over the surly book and twirls his staff between his fingers. “These things are really considered a threat here?” He glances over his shoulder at Taveth. “I’d like to see you dispatch one.”

Taveth flinches and clutches his satchel strap. He gives a nervous laugh. “I’d really prefer not to. Personified or not, I-I really don’t like destroying books.” He spins on his heel and heads for the stairs leading back to the two mages at the doors.

Alisbeth makes a face after him. “You know, he was always kind of a dweeb, but I don’t remember him being such a pacifist…” She jolts and then grins at Grimory. “Hey! Bet I can kill more books on the way to the basement!”

Grimory’s smirk widens. “What do I win?” Without waiting for a response, he runs off, staff across his shoulders and nearly slipping on his robes. He plucks a tome from the air as it attacks, and tears it in half, then tosses the pieces over the ledge.

Alisbeth throws her staff at Grimory’s feet to trip him. “You win nothing!”

Grimory stumbles, his jaw hitting the stone below as he falls. He growls and reaches for the hem of Alisbeth’s robes as she passes to drag her down with him. “Then neither do you!”

Alisbeth falls forward, biting into her tongue as her chin hits the stone floor. “Dath no faiw!” She slaps at his hand to free herself, then stands, cradling her mouth in one palm as she jabs the staff at Grimory. “I’m tewwing Tabbef!”

“I’m not listening!” Taveth shouts over his shoulder.

The Illidari chuckles and swats the staff away as he stands. “Seems you’re outnumbered.” He sets a gentle hand on her cheek and gives a cocky smile before running off again, burning any flapping books in his path.

When Taveth reaches the two, they’re in a heated debate. He clears his throat so as not to interrupt. The woman looks at him.

“Will you help prove me right? Which school of magic would resurrection fall under?”

Taveth frowns. “That depends on the type of resurrection.”

She growls, not liking his answer. “No, there has to be something specific. Get me that book from the shelf. The one on the schools of magic.”

Having overheard, Grimory plucks a book from the shelf as he passes it in the hallway and flips nonchalantly through the pages. “This book has a chapter on schools,” he muses, rubbing at his jaw with his free hand.

Taveth’s eyelids droop. “That’s not even close to what she wants.” He goes to the shelf and takes on a pensive stance as he scans the titles.

Grimory furrows his brow and opens to the chapter in question. “Oh. This is about actual schools. Heh. My bad.” He tosses the book carelessly over his shoulder and glances around. “Where’d Ali go?”

“You were…the one…watching her,” Taveth half hums, as though speaking through a dream. His brow furrows as he inspects one spine a little closer. “How to Befriend A Demon? Why would mages—Hey! Why do you have this book?” He goes to the other two, holding the book aloft, and completely abandoning Grimory.

“What self-respecting library doesn’t have that book?” one of the mages snaps, a look of irritation on her ghastly face.

Taveth narrows his eyes skeptically at the mage. He returns the book to where he’d found it and scans the shelf for the book she’d requested. Once in her hands, she begins flipping through the pages. The high elf lets out a sigh and waits as the two return to squabbling over who’s right.

Grimory scoffs and rolls his eyes, turning back to the ramp leading into the spire-like central room. “Ali?” He pokes his head around the corner and scans the balconies with slit pupils.

Alisbeth leans around a pillar and looks up at Grimory from where she’s crouched beside the pool of water hiding the lower levels of the academy. She grins. “Oh, hi! _Oof!_” She lurches and goes behind the pillar again. “Just a sec—_aah!_—second.”

Grimory furrows his brow and steps out of the hallway. “What are you doing?” he asks with a cautious tone and places his hands on his hips. “And should I be concerned?”

Alisbeth’s face pops around again and she waves a hand, flicking water across the stone. “Concerned? No. Not at all. Why should you be concerned? When have I ever given you a reason to be concerned? I mean it’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.” She gives an innocent grin and leans back, her other hand leaving a wet print in the dust. Water splashes behind the pillar and she wobbles, then disappears again.

Taveth taps an impatient foot, then tosses his hands over his head. “Okay, just let my friends through when they come back.” He stomps to the door, which lowers to let him pass to the spiraling staircase leading down into the library.

The male mage looks at the female. “Was he talking to us?”

Grimory’s confused expression deepens. “You’re not…_drowning_ someone, are you?” he asks after a moment and steps toward her.

Alisbeth gives an innocent smile. “Me? Drowning someone? How could you thi-_i_-nk such a thing?” Her entire body jerks backward. She grabs the staff at her side and begins hitting the water—along with the struggling book trapped under her feet.

Grimory finally comes forward to look at what she’s got beneath her. His face falls into one of relief and boredom. “Oh. You can’t drown them, Ali. But I’m sure you knew that, so…what are you doing?”

Alisbeth purses her lips and narrows her eyes. “I was…seeing if I could…drown them.” She releases the book and jumps to her feet as it flaps into open air, struggling with its sodden pages. The death knight lifts the staff and bats the book across the room. “Where’s Tav?”

Grimory shrugs. “Looking for a book. Come on, let’s go help him, yeah? I think we’ve taken care of enough of these tomes.” He gestures back into the hallway with the arguing and dueling mages.

Alisbeth jumps up with a smile. She presses to him and bites his chest. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Grimory winces and rubs the spot she’d bitten, then purses his lips and follows. He blinks when he doesn’t find Taveth where he’d left him. “Uh, hey,” he addresses one of the arguing mages by the door. “You know that guy I was just with? Where’d he go?”

The woman furrows her brow. “Blond fellow? Ponytail? He went down into the library.”

The death knight pokes at Grimory’s side. “Where’s the library? Did you lose my cousin? If you lost my cousin I may have to do mean things to you. Maybe. Possibly. Oh! Look! This door is shiny!” She runs over, then jumps back with a yelp as the door sinks into the floor.

Grimory gives a hearty laugh and saunters past her, down the stairs. “Careful, they bite.” He snaps at the air as he passes, a smirk on his lips. “Tav?” he calls down, then scowls when someone at the bottom immediately shushes him.


	28. Chapter 28

Anarchaia pauses, ignoring the struggling orc to glance behind her and around the feet of the crowd. “I-I don’t…” Her hands raise to her head in panic and she fidgets. “Oh gods, this isn’t good. Diori!” She turns to run, then immediately doubles back around to polymorph the man so he does not follow. “She can’t have gone far. Check to the east. I’ll go west.”

“East. Right. Got it.” Koltira takes off running, images of Alisbeth’s attempt on his life flashing through his mind. _This time she’ll make sure I stay dead. Fuck._

Anarchaia grits her teeth as she scrambles to tie her robes at her hip while simultaneously running. “Diori!” she calls, mouth cupped in her hands. _Oh gods, please be okay._ “Excuse me, have you seen a little high elf girl? Blonde hair, blue eyes…?”

The tauren woman shakes her head sadly and the mage curses as she runs off.

Koltira makes his way back to the guard from earlier. “The little girl I gave the sword to earlier, have you seen her? She’s missing.”

The orc furrows his brow. “I haven’t, but I’ll spread the word.”

“Blue eyes, blonde hair. Her name is Diori.” Koltira runs the other way to search behind the stage. He gives an absent wave to crew members and the band as he pulls up the platform skirt to look underneath.

Diori glances up as light floods her hiding space below the stage. She hugs her knees closer and sniffles, then buries her face when she sees Koltira peering in at her. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to cause trouble!” she sobs into her legs. “I-I just didn’t watch where I was going and…and…”

Koltira crawls to where the little girl is curled up. Unable to sit, he drops onto his belly and leans on his elbows. “Don’t sweat it, kid. Accidents happen and assholes happen. It’s just best if you don’t run away next time you drop a sword on someone’s foot. Stand your ground and apologize. If that doesn’t work, kick their ass.”

Diori bites her lip and sniffles. “I know I shouldn’t have run off…but I was scared, and he was so big. I was afraid that he’d…” She swallows then scrunches her face as if in realization, fresh tears welling in the corners of her glowing eyes. “He hit mask lady. And it was my fault.” She buries her face in her knees again. “I’m not a fighter. Maybe I should just stick to studying Holy.”

Koltira thinks on this and shrugs. “Well, you are the only one that can decide that, right? Personally, I think you spent too long with that…odd…brother of yours. Redblades don’t run from their fear, they spit in its face—don’t spit on people.” He tugs on a lock of Diori’s hair.

Diori looks up and gives the faintest of smiles. She rubs at her eye, then ponders for a moment before nodding and sniffling. “Okay. I’ll be braver next time.” She reaches out and tugs on a lock of his hair in return. “I promise.”

Koltira tugs her hair again. “Do you like funnel cake?”

Diori’s face lights up and she nods emphatically. “Yes! Can we get some!? Ooh! Can we do the shooty game with the bottles, too? They had a _huge_ stuffed kraken plush that I saw!” She holds out her arms to emphasize.

“Yes, we can get funnel cake and play the game and you can shoot until you win the kraken.” He holds out his hand and tilts his head. “Come on, kiddo.”

Diori bounces excitedly, despite the cramped space, and takes his hand, crawling for the edge of the stage and attempting to drag Koltira with her.

Koltira chuckles, then grits his teeth as a guitar strum blares from above and shakes his bones. He crawls faster to get free from beneath the stage.

Diori waits excitedly for Koltira and grabs his hand when he emerges. “To funnel cake!” she screams over the loud screech of reverb. She drags him back to the center of the festival to find a rather roughed-up Anarchaia looking bewildered.

The mage lights up when she sees them. “Oh, thank _Gods_,” she breathes, running up to them. “Where were you?”

Diori looks down, her enthusiasm gone. “I’m sorry…”

Koltira gives Anarchaia a telling sigh. “We’re off to get funnel cake. Care to join?” He musses up the girl’s hair.

Anarchaia returns the sigh and gives a tired smile. “It’s okay. Let’s go.”

Diori returns the smile and nods. “Can we still play games?”

“Yes, of course.” _And no more sword carrying._

~ * ~

Koltira sits down on a bench and groans. “We’ve been here for hours. Are you even a little tired?” he says on a chuckle as he ruffles Diori’s hair.

Diori struggles to hold on to the massive plush murloc in her arms and pouts as her hair is tousled. “No.” She struggles to resist a yawn but ultimately fails.

Anarchaia chuckles and sets a hand on her hip. “I think it’s nearly time to go back. You can’t survive on carnival food all day.”

Koltira grabs the girl and her murloc into his arms. “Probably close to bedtime, anyway.”

Diori kicks her legs feebly and whines. “Nooo,” she moans in a tired voice.

“_Yeeeees_,” Anarchaia responds in a mimicking tone and chortles. She turns and lifts a hand, opening a portal back to Dalaran. “Young priests need their rest.”

Diori pouts and _thunk_s her head against Koltira’s shoulder. “But I’m having so much fun.”

“I’m sure you can have more fun another day. The Faire will be here all week. For now, Ana is right.” He smiles at the mage and takes the girl through the portal into Dalaran.

“There you are, you bitch!”

Anarchaia whirls around to see the Orc from earlier—tattered and bruised—advancing with his cronies. She gives a nervous wave and quickly steps through the portal. It closes immediately when she steps across. “We can set her in Alisbeth’s room. Heh.”

Koltira smiles down at the mage. “Sounds like a good plan. Not really anywhere else we could take her.”

Once back at the Legerdemain Lounge Anarchaia gives a quiet sigh as she closes the door behind them. “I…honestly didn’t expect babysitting to be so…” She places a hand over her bruised sternum. “Violent.”

Koltira smirks at the mage. “You didn’t have even a little fun?”

Anarchaia gives a comical pout and folds her arms. “_I guess,_” she mumbles and pretends to pick at her nails. “Could have done without the punching.” She smiles. “What about you? Did the big, bad death knight have fun at the Faire?”

Koltira grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Anarchaia snerks and strides across the room to settle next to Diori on the bed. “I’ll take that as an admission of guilt.”

Koltira scoffs. “I admitted nothing, and I never will.” His gaze comes to rest on the little girl and he sighs. “Still like the idea of children? After today?”

Anarchaia turns her head to look over Diori’s sleeping form for a long moment, then nods as she finds herself smiling. “Yeah. I do.” She reaches up to brush the girl’s soft blonde hair from her face. The sight of Grimory’s prominent nose causes her smile to fade. “They don’t deserve her,” she mutters bitterly.

Koltira sets a hand on the mage’s shoulder. “Maybe not, but there is nothing _good_ that you can do about it. Nor can I.”

Anarchaia’s face softens beneath her mask. She nods and stands. “I suppose that’s true.” Her bones pop as she stretches. “Thank gods for Taveth, then.” She exhales as she deflates again. “They can’t know about us losing her, though,” she continues in a grave voice as she looks up into Koltira’s face.

Koltira shakes his head. “You really think I’d say anything after Lorlathil? Not a word, to any of them. Even Taveth.” He sits beside her on the bed and reaches into her mask to withdraw a lock of ivory hair. He rubs it between his thumb and index finger. “He’s a strange fellow. Kind of…well he’s kind of like you.”

Anarchaia blinks before pursing her lips. “I’m _strange_?”

Koltira grits his teeth lightly. “No…? It’s just…you’re both bookish and inquisitive and next to me and Grim and even Ali, you seem small and in need of protection.” He sets his hand on hers and smiles. “But you’re the most powerful of us, he’s just a weird little scholar.”

Anarchaia flushes and turns to hide her already hidden smile. “I-I don’t know if that’s true. He’s definitely quirky, but I’m not sure about _weird_.” She chuckles. “Though…I’m sure you overheard…”

Koltira chuckles and nods. “He doesn’t whisper quietly when drunk. And yes, you’re the most powerful of us. And yes, he’s kind of weird. I mean, did you see those glasses on him?” Koltira thinks on it and gives her a soft smile. “You like him, don’t you?”

Anarchaia’s blush darkens and she turns to look at him, lips pursed again. “If by _like_ you mean in the realms of friendship, then yes. I like him a lot.”

Koltira laughs outright. “Of course, I meant friendship! You’re already spoken for.” He wraps her in a gentle hug and kisses the top of her head. “You two would be unstoppable with the knowledge you each possess.”

Anarchaia smiles and returns the hug, squeezing him as tightly as his armor will allow. “He should consider becoming a mage. Heh. I bet he’d be better than me.” She rests her temple on his chest. “Probably wouldn’t take him twenty years…”

“Doesn’t he have a sister that’s a mage? I remember him saying something about that. And, no, I think you’d still kick his ass in a fight. I don’t think you realize how much of a badass you are, Ana.” He lifts her mask just high enough to kiss her.

Anarchaia chuckles and nods. “I’ve never had the chance to meet her, however.” She grins sheepishly. “And I’m really not. Stop.”

Koltira nuzzles against Anarchaia’s cheek. “Yes, you are. I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Then maybe you’d shut up with this modesty nonsense.”

Anarchaia can’t help but smile at the affection and turns to push her forehead against his. “Couldn’t I say the same thing about you?”

Koltira smiles back. “Nope.”

“Yep,” the mage responds in a mocking tone and pulls her mask up to look at him from its shadows. “You’re tactical, intelligent, kind, passionate, and strong. All the things any man should strive to be. It’s why I was attracted to you.”

Koltira snorts and wraps his arms around the mage. “I’ll accept the attraction, but the rest is horse shit.”


	29. Chapter 29

Taveth’s brow furrows at the book in his hand. He snaps it closed and approaches Instructor Nidriel. “I was wondering if I might speak to the Headmistress.”

She smiles, pulling her lower lip into her teeth to suck on as she thinks. “I don’t think Headmistress Azuremoon is too terribly busy, at the moment. Go on in.”

Taveth bows his thanks and walks through the doorway, eager to speak with someone who might be able to answer questions the book brought up.

“How can I help you?”

The high elf paused in her commanding presence. “I-I have a question about something I’ve stumbled across in a few texts, including this one.”

“Go on.”

“What can you tell me of the Tidestone?”

The Headmistress’s smile turns to a frown, then a scowl. “I thought I made it clear that students are NOT to ask about the Tidestone!”

Right before his eyes, the Headmistress turns into a banshee and advances on him. Taveth runs for the exit, but a barrier rises up to block his escape. He scrambles along the wall, searching for another way out, but finds none. He grips his satchel to his chest and cringes as she nears.

“Don’t make me,” he whimpers.

“DETENTION!”

Taveth reaches into his bag. “I’m sorry.” His hand wraps around the handle of a dagger and he closes his eyes.

<<So, then I say—Wait, what? _Where am I?_>>

“Thal’kiel, help!”

The floating skull whips around. <<Oh. It’s you.>>

“Thal!”

<<You know, if I could frown, I’d be frowning. You know that, don’t you?>> Thal’kiel growls.

Taveth presses further into the corner as the Headmistress nears. “Th-Thal’kiel, please!”

<<Oh, gods, I hate that word. _Please_. Awful, cute little word.>>

The headmistress stops to stare at the floating skull, then rakes her clawed fingers across the dull copper bone. Thal’kiel spins around.

<<You took me away from a nice conversation about domination over the Light with Keeshokin for _this?_>>

The headmistress bats Thal’kiel out of her way. She scratches across Taveth’s bicep, then grabs him and throws him across the room.

“Thal—!”

<<Alright, _alright!_ I suppose it’s better to help than let you die and be banished again. Get the party started, you pathetic little scrap of—>>

“Okay, I get it. Can we focus?” Taveth shouts. He stands and scrambles sideways to avoid the banshee’s claws.

A felguard pops into the room and looks around. <<Who dares summon—oh. Why are you still alive, whelp?>>

“Heh, you…you jokers. Heh.” Taveth dives under a nearby table. The headmistress slams her fist through the table and grabs at the squirming elf.

<<He won’t be alive for long,>> Thal’kiel says.

<<Oh, did he summon us to watch?>> He looks around and snorts. <<Didn’t even bring snacks.>>

<<If we don’t help him, then we stay in the Nether forever.>>

Keeshokin grunts. <<Fine.>>

He stomps forward and smacks the side of his axe against the back of the headmistress’s head. She drops Taveth and turns to shriek at him. In return, Thal’kiel teleports to her and shrieks loudly beside her head. She hisses at him and shies away.

<<Call the dogs,>> Thal’kiel says.

“Who’s the master, here?”

<<Ugh. Don’t remind me.>> He races over to Taveth and knocks against his forehead. The rough texture of the bone scratches through the skin and draws a red line down the elf’s forehead. <<Summon the dogs, _master_.>>

Taveth holds out the spine-dagger, focusing on the banshee. He begins to mutter in demonic. Smoke swirls around him, materializing into two felhounds with imps on their backs. The hounds growl, one twitching to the left to bite Taveth’s ankle. The imps cackle and kick the sides of the hounds to urge them forward. The high elf continues to mutter, helping his minions to grow more powerful.

Headmistress Azuremoon lets out one final shriek, then dissolves into dust and light. The hounds and imps disappear into a puff of smoke.

<<As for you,>> Keeshokin says. He lifts his axe and advances on Taveth.

“You’re dismissed!” Taveth shouts quickly.

The demon vanishes and the elf lets out a heavy sigh of relief. Thal’kiel immediately knocks against Taveth’s forehead again, cutting the gash deeper.

<<One day, weakling.>>

“Until then…”

<<Don’t you put that dagger back!>> the skull screams. <<I swear on the heart of Jagganoth, I will—>>

Taveth slips the dagger into his bag. The moment it leaves his hand, the skull vanishes and the elf is left in the silence following. He struggles to catch his breath. He sets his fingers to his forehead and frowns at the blood which comes away. On his way out of the room, his foot kicks against something that clatters along the stone floor. He stoops and grabs up the key, pockets it, and rushes from the chamber.

“Taveth!” Alisbeth runs to him. “You’re hurt.”

“W-we have to go.”

“But we just got here.”

“I said now!” He grabs her by the arm and shoves her toward the entrance.

Grimory opens his mouth to address the elf’s wounds, but Alisbeth is faster. He gives a sigh of relief at the aspect of leaving and tears the unsightly hat from his head. “Thank gods,” he mumbles, while he struggles to pull the robes over his head as they walk at a quick pace. “So, what happened? I heard screeching.” He pauses as he tosses the robes at the nearest student. “And my demon senses were tingling.”

Alisbeth giggles as she lets Taveth drag her. “That’s a stupid phrase. What is it, like a superpower?”

Taveth double checks the buckles on his bag. “Heh. Ali’s right. S-silly thing to say.”

Grimory gives Taveth a wary sideways glance. _You reek of them._ “So where to next, O captain, my captain?” He grins. “Get the info you were after?”

“No,” Taveth says, doing his best to wipe away the blood on his forehead with a sleeve as he tries to shake Alisbeth away from the wound on his arm. In the stairwell he stops and gazes both ways, then lowers his voice to a near whisper. “I’ve found mention of something called the Tidestone. I went into the headmistress’s office to ask about it.”

“Got any bandages in there? Your arm is pretty bad.” Alisbeth grabs his satchel.

Taveth rips the bag out of her grasp and grips it tight. “No. I haven’t got any. I’m fine, anyway.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows at the mention of the relic. “Someone at the Fel Hammer mentioned that before. I don’t recall what they said about it but apparently it’s super important. Did she tell you anything?” He pauses. “Though from the looks of you I’m gonna guess she didn’t.”

Taveth purses his lips. “No, but… She dropped this.” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws the key. “There was another door opposite this one,” he points up the stairs at the door they all know is around the corner. “I bet this key unlocks it.”

Grimory glances up the path and shrugs. “Sounds like a pretty specific hunch, but we’ve got nothing to lose by checking.” He extends am arm. “Y’all first.”

Taveth takes the lead, smiling and muttering some excuse as they pass the mages in the hall. The key works, sending the door sliding down into the floor.

Alisbeth gasps. “Are we being naughty?” She hops over the threshold and giggles. “I’m breaking the rules!” She takes off running down the stairs. “_SCHOOL SUCKS! POWER TO THE PUPILS! BURN THE BOOKS!_”

Taveth sighs loudly. “A leash. Yes. That’s what we need.”

“She’d gnaw her own arm off,” Grimory responds as he follows down the steps two at a time.

Taveth double checks the buckles on his satchel, then presses his palm to his injured arm and follows the other two down.

Grimory turns to observe Taveth as he trudges down the steps. “You gonna be okay? Need some medical attention?” He grins. “Headmistress really went hard on you, yeah?”

The high elf shrugs. “She wasn’t too happy, no.” He keeps walking, doing his best to ignore the other man’s stare.

Grimory narrows an eye at his suspicious behavior but otherwise shrugs it off, continuing down the stairs to look for Alisbeth. He stops at the bottom, looking around at the large pillars and crumbling stone floor. Banshees roam the area and he steps behind one of the pillars. “Ali?”

Alisbeth’s smiling face pokes around the next pillar. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Taveth blinks at her. “The…the banshees?”

Alisbeth merely nods.

Grimory scrunches his face in obvious disapproval. “No. They’re creepy. And ugly. Where are their legs? They make no sense.” He picks up a piece of rubble and tosses it in the air repeatedly. “That it over there, Tav?” he gestures to the far end of the circular room where an alcove with a dais can be seen.

Taveth snatches the stone out of the air before it hits the demon hunter’s palm again. After a quick inspection he gasps. “This is it! These stones on the floor, when put together… are the Tidestone. That sphere is the center. We have to get the pieces.”

Alisbeth peeks around the room, considering the banshees and the pieces. “So, you’re saying kill the banshees.”

“If you have to.”

Alisbeth jumps up. “Yay! Just what I wanted. They’re so beautiful…just makes you want to smash them to bits!” As she finishes she leaps out at a banshee and swings at its face with the side of her axe. She spins in a full circle, then sticks out her lower lip in a pout.

Grimory looks around. “Well, gather what you can. If there’s any piece you can’t lift just say the word.” He steps forward to exhale a cloud of verdant flames over the banshee before it can turn and counter Alisbeth’s ineffective attack. “Magic, Ali,” he reminds in his best tone of patience, then turns and gives the same treatment to another attempting to flank him.

Alisbeth puts her hands on her hips and bends forward. She contorts her face into a sneer, then says in a mocking tone, “Magic, Ali.”

Taveth squeezes the strap of his bag, resisting getting his dagger to end things faster than the other two could. Instead he turns away and picks up the nearest piece of the Tidestone.

Grimory whirls around and narrows his eyes at Alisbeth. He mimics her posture and sneers as well. “Don’t make me come over there.” He stomps his boot and a green sigil forms on the ground below another banshee roused by the commotion. Flames explode from the symbol and she shrieks in pain.

Alisbeth drains the life from the banshee, then leans forward again in the same posture, scrunching up her face and puckering her lips. “Doon’t mooke moo coome oover thoore.”

Taveth rolls his eyes and stoops for a piece. He comes up face to face with a banshee. His fingers tighten around his satchel until his knuckles turn white. _They’d make this so much easier._ Taveth turns and sprints to the others. “Help!”

Grimory opens his mouth to respond in an equally childish manner. His ears perk, however, when he hears Taveth’s cry for help. He sticks his tongue out at Alisbeth and turns to run in his direction, blowing more fire over the high elf’s attacker.

Taveth skids behind the pillar beside Alisbeth and gives her a sheepish look.

She rolls her eyes. “You know, if you’d learn how to defend yourself, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

“I don’t like to fight.”

“Because you’re a wuss.” She reaches over his shoulder and drags a banshee practically on top of him. “Better learn how to keep her from killing you!” She kisses his cheek and runs over to pick up a piece of stone, absently throwing out magic attacks as she scrutinizes the stone.

Taveth cringes up at the banshee. “I don’t want to fight you.”

The banshee inhales and screams at Taveth in response, slashing claws down on him without care or aim.

Grimory cringes at the sound and looks over his shoulder through the pain. “You left him there?” he calls to Alisbeth as another ghost descends upon the demon hunter and is quickly dispatched with more fire.

Claws wrap around Taveth’s neck and lift his feet from the ground. Gasping for breath, he undoes the clasps of his satchel. The banshee shrieks and swipes her claws across the high elf’s chest, cutting through the strap of his bag and leaving ugly, red gashes across his torso. The bag drops to the ground, the flap flops open, and the black-bladed dagger rolls out onto the stone floor. Taveth pulls at the hand at his throat, gasping and kicking, one hand reaching for the dagger as though by some miracle it could fly into his palm.

Alisbeth purses her lips. “You’re supposed to be fighting her!” Alisbeth rushes forward, but a banshee glides to her and grabs her by the hair. “_No one touches my hair!_”

Grimory grits his teeth, looking quickly between Alisbeth and the far-more-injured Taveth. He growls and throws another sigil on the ground. Chains burst forth, wrapping around the banshee holding the other man and pulling them both to him. He wrenches Taveth from the ghost’s claw and tosses him to the side by the ruff of his shirt. The banshee slashes at the Illidari instead and Grimory retaliates with yet more fire.

Taveth scrambles away, coughing and gasping in deep breaths. He scrambles to his bag. After a moment of hesitation, he wraps his hand around the vertebrae of the dagger’s handle.

<<_What do you want, dammit!_>> The orange flames licking around the copper skull near Taveth’s face. <<More banshees? You know, you really need to—No! Don’t do that! I’m warning—>>

Taveth shoves the dagger into the bag and clasps it as fast as he can, his fingers shaking violently.

Alisbeth finishes off the banshee and turns to find Taveth on the floor and Grim dealing with the banshee. “Grim! You’re supposed to make him do it!”

Grimory hisses at Alisbeth, too distracted by the banshee to notice Taveth’s scrambling. “He’s not as strong as us, Ali!”

The specter lays its charred claws across Grimory’s horn and he growls before finishing it off and inspecting the damage.

Alisbeth huffs and puts a hand on her hip after the banshee behind her falls into light and ash. “Well, he needs to learn. That’s how you learn. You give the kid a sword and throw him into the fray.”

Taveth ignores the two as he examines his chest. _I could heal this so easi— No. No, I can’t. I won’t._ He frantically stuffs the pieces of the Tidestone into his satchel, ignoring the loud clanking of the pieces against Thal’kiel’s spine. Taveth goes behind a pillar to find another piece of the relic, then stops. He closes his eyes and sighs in defeat. Moments later a yellow crystal formation takes shape in his palm. He squeezes until a few of the crystals shatter into a powder, then inhales it as it floats around his hand. His wounds heal over and he purses his lips, then shoves the stone into his satchel.

Grimory rubs a hand over his shallow wound and half-scowls at her. “That’s not how you train someone. You give them scenarios that hold no immediate danger and work your way up. Especially someone who has no combat experience.”

Before Alisbeth can retort, Taveth steps back around the pillar, struggling under the weight of the stones in the bag clutched in his arms. “That’s enough squabbling. I think we have all the pieces.”

“What about that one?” Alisbeth motions at the sphere in the small corner. She sticks her tongue out at Grimory and goes over to stare at the little ball.

Grimory returns the gesture as Alisbeth, then turns to follow. He narrows his eyes down at the small orb and its radiating energies. “I’m…not touching that thing. Looks like all sorts of trouble.”

Hands shaking, Taveth adjusts his pack into one arm; the stones shift and scrape against each other. “I swear, if my pen breaks…” He reaches out his free hand to grab the orb. Ice immediately encases him.

Fog sublimates off the frost immobilizing the group. The sound of scales against dusty stone echoes from the stone walls and a trio of Naga gaze upon their prize. “Our gratitudess for leading uss to the Tidesstone, foolss,” the witch in the middle hisses. “You, take the prisonerss—they’ll do nicely in the sslave penss. I’ll deal with the sstone.”

The duo of guards stab the three blocks of ice with harpoons and make easy work of dragging the group back up the stairs.

~ * ~

Taveth wakes, chained to the floor of a cave. He bolts upright and scrabbles around, his face growing paler.

Alisbeth jolts to her feet, weapon drawn and ready to fight, but finds guards standing too far away to hit. “Heeeeere fishy, fishy.”

The guard on the left furrows his scaly brow at his companion and the two exchange words in their fish-like tongue.

Grimory slowly sits up as well, his arms wrapped tightly about himself. He shudders. “I said I’d never let myself be put in a crystal again. Is ice a crystal?” He glances up at Alisbeth, then at the Naga. “Oh, yeah,” he murmurs and gets to his feet. A hand on his head, he stirs. “Was it worth it, Tav?”

“No, no, _NO!_” Taveth launches at the guards and shouts in Naga. His chain stops him and he drops to the ground just in front of the two.

One hisses a laugh and pokes him with his trident. The high elf bats the weapon away.

“Now where the hell was that fire when the banshee had you, hmm?” Alisbeth joins the Naga in poking him with her weapon.

Grimory attempts to spit embers at their captors but finds his fel powers dampened. He instead throws a rock at the offending one. “Ali, stop stoking the flames.”

The guard flinches and growls. “She never said we had to keep all of them alive. The woman and small one will prove useful but that one…” He lifts his trident, ready to strike the demon hunter. The two however roar out in surprise and pain as they’re engulfed in violet energy. Their bodies crumple atop one another, smoldering.

“Are you all right?” The ghostly image of a night elf steps toward the trio, his white robes trailing in the dirt behind him yet leaving no trail.

After being freed from the chain, Alisbeth jumps at the ghost. “My hero!” She falls through him and into the dirt, where she scowls.

Taveth stands and dusts himself off. “No. No, I am not all right. I will not _be_ all right. Thank you. I have to go.” Without waiting for anyone else, he speeds to the entrance of the cave.

After a moment of giving Alisbeth a sympathetic shrug, the man jumps in surprise and turns with an outstretched hand. “Wait! A moment, please? The Tidestone! You’ve seen it!”

Grimory shakes the broken chain from his ankle. “Yeah, we have.”

Taveth stops and purses his lips. “Yes. I had all of the pieces in my bag and that fish-eating, slithery little— She _stole_ it!”

Alisbeth snorts into the dirt and pushes to her hands and knees. “Tempew, tempew, Tabbef.”

The high elf lowers the lids of his eyes at her, clearly not in the mood.

Grimory perks and frantically looks about. “Wait, _they took it?_”

The night elf man clenches his fists but otherwise remains collected and seemingly unaffected by their attitudes toward one another. “I know where she’s taken it. If you’ll hear me out, that is.”

Taveth’s eyes go wide. “Tell us what you know. Please. My life’s work is in that satchel.”

“You brought all of your life’s work with you in—”

“Shut up, Ali.”

She pouts, but otherwise keeps her mouth closed.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows and assists Alisbeth back to her feet. “He always get like this when his purse is taken?”

“The Naga are summoning a great creature on the island to the south. She plans to use the Tidestone to assist its creation.” The man steps toward Taveth. “I’ve been searching for that stone for years. We must get it back and assure the Naga cannot use it.”

Alisbeth purses her lips. “I haven’t seen him in over fifty years, and before that barely because of the academy. You have to _behave_ to get visitation and outside privileges.”

Taveth nods. “We will help. We _have_ to get my bag back. I just hope they haven’t lost anything…precious.”

The death knight narrows her eyes after her cousin, then turns to Grimory. “Did he just volunteer _us_ without asking?” She gasps excitedly as her eyes fall on a huge sea scrog sitting on one side of the cave. “_I thought you were a wall!_ Hi up there!”

The skrog grunts down at her in its placated state.

The night elf man nods and sighs. “Their ranks are thick there, however. You’ll need more than just the three of you to pierce their defenses. A number of their monsters and high-ranking generals are there. Once you are ready, come find me in the ruins just north of here. I can bring you to the entrance, but be prepared for a fight.”

Grimory folds his arms and tilts his head. “And who are we supposed to ask for?”

“Oh! My apologies. I am known as Prince Farondis. I’m…sure you’ll have no issues being directed to me.”

The Demon Hunter shrugs and makes past him for the entrance. “Will do. Thanks for the rescue.”

The scrog looks down on them as they head for the opening. “You little Elves lucky. You can break chains and just walk right out. Golk? Golk can break chains, but Golk can’t walk out.”

Alisbeth frowns up at him. “Can we do something?” she asks Grimory.

“There’s no time!” Taveth hisses as he stomps out of the cave.

Grimory cringes at the question. “Ana could. Not sure how they even got him _in_ here, to be honest.” He pats Alisbeth on the shoulder. “We’ll come back for him, yeah?” He blinks after Taveth, then jogs to catch up. “Just what is in that bag of yours that’s so godsdamn important?” He pauses. “Besides the relic, that is.”

Taveth smirks and stares at his hands. “Heh. Would you really understand what I was talking about if I told you the subject of my current research?”

“I would!” Alisbeth shouts, raising her hand as she runs up behind them.

Taveth keeps walking as though she’d said nothing.

The Illidari scowls. “That’s a tad condescending.” He turns his head to hold out a hand to Alisbeth. “Let’s leave the nerd with his thoughts until we get back to Dalaran.”

Alisbeth takes his hand and giggles. “_Nerd!_” She sticks her tongue out at Taveth.


	30. Chapter 30

As the door opens, Anarchaia stops mid-sentence as she reads from a copy of _Azeroth’s Aviary_. Diori jumps up from her spot between the mage and death knight to run to the door with arms open.

“You’re back!” she sings, blue eyes bright with excitement.

Taveth smiles, despite his aggravation, and welcomes his sister into his arms. “I missed you the whole time.”

Alisbeth bounces on the balls of her feet, waiting for her own hug.

“I missed you, too!” Diori smiles and leaps at Alisbeth next, struggling to hold onto her armor. She giggles when Grimory tousles her hair. “We went to the Faire!”

Taveth’s smile dims. “Unfortunately, we have to go, again. Somewhere dangerous. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “Dangerous? You?”

The high elf purses his lips. “Yes, me. A Naga took my bag and I intend to get it back.”

Diori frowns, her eyes becoming glossy. “But what if you don’t come back?”

Alisbeth grabs Diori in a big hug. “I won’t let it happen. He’s in good hands.”

Koltira stands. “I’ll go. You stay here and—”

“No!” Taveth clears his throat. “I just want to see to this myself. Heh.”

“Ana is much more powerful than you, anyway,” Grimory grunts. “She should come.”

Anarchaia stands and hesitates. “I suppose,” she mutters, setting a hand on Koltira’s shoulder. “You can keep watching Diori.” She gives a nervous chuckle. <<She likes you more,>> she whispers in Gutterspeak.

Koltira folds his arms, holding back the strange feeling of joy over getting to spend more time with the child. He shrugs ambivalently. “I suppose that could work. So long as she’s okay with it.”

Diori looks back at Koltira and smiles through her worry. She nods. “I had fun yesterday.”

Anarchaia pats her hands together once and sighs. “I guess that’s that. Uh, where are we going? Heh.”

Alisbeth makes to answer, then stops. “You know… I don’t think he said.”

Taveth deflates. “You’re right, he didn’t. He only said that there were a lot of Naga and some great creature.” He scratches at his jaw, then stands. “I need to get a new notebook and pen to use until I get mine back. And a satchel.” He kisses Diori on the top of her head and smiles. “Be good for Koltira and I’ll bring you a souvenir.”

Diori’s eyes light again and she bounces. “Okay!” She runs over to grab Koltira’s hand and takes the book from Anarchaia with the other.

“He said to the north of the academy,” Grimory responds dully, ignoring the jealousy rising in his throat.

Alisbeth smiles at the scene. “You gonna read to Kolty?”

The small elf giggles and shakes her head. “They were reading to me. It’s about birds!”

Taveth gives Diori one last pat on the head, then makes his exit to get the new items and a change of clothes.

Alisbeth bends and gives Diori a kiss on the cheek. “You have fun, okay?” She shoves a finger into Koltira’s face. “Anything happens to her and I’ll kill you. Again.”

The death knight nods. “Oh, I know you will.”

Diori frowns at the tension and climbs back onto the bed. “She killed you?” she asks quietly when Alisbeth leaves.

Koltira laughs. “No. She hurt me really bad, though. It’s because I said mean things to her that I shouldn’t have.” He lifts the book and ruffles the girl’s hair. “Now, where were we?”

Anarchaia follows Taveth and Grimory out of the room. “I know of a healer! I’ll ask around for her while you guys prepare.” She pauses. “And tell Master where I’m going.”

Grimory rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t need to know everything you do, you know.”

“On the contrary,” Taveth says. “She is his apprentice, and so he _does_ need to know if she is heading off into someplace dangerous, in case something happens, so he’ll know where to look to find her.” He gives Anarchaia a small, somewhat distracted smile. “I’ll meet back with you…here? I suppose?” He motions at the mostly empty—save for the early morning patrons crowding the counter for coffee—area of the Legerdemain Lounge.

Anarchaia nods after sticking her tongue out at Grimory for a brief second. “Will do.” She disappears in a flash of light.

Grimory takes note and gives her a rude gesture in her wake. “We’ll…wait here I guess.”

Taveth blinks at the demon hunter. “We? No. I’m still getting a new satchel. And a book or two. And a pen…or two. Maybe three. And a change of clothes.” He pokes at his torn shirt and vest. “Yes. See you soon.” He spins on his heel and heads for Greyfang Enclave.

“I meant Ali and I, but sure,” the Illidari grumbles and throws himself into a weathered armchair.

Alisbeth reaches the bottom of the stairs and cocks an eyebrow at the retreating high elf. “Hey! Wait for— Oh!” She leaps onto Grimory’s lap, throwing her legs over one arm and her head on the other. “Hi, Grim! Where’d everybody go?”

~ * ~

Sometime later, Anarchaia returns looking frazzled and irritated. “Not one,” she hisses. “Not _one_ druid in the _entire_ city. How am I supposed to contact her otherwise?”

Taveth shifts the brand-new leather satchel on his shoulder, pulling on the strap to find some level of comfort. He frowns. “It’s just not the same… Contact who?” He looks to Anarchaia with interest.

“Juliember,” Anarchaia responds defeatedly. “She healed us through the Halls and did a great job.”

“I liked Juno! She was nice. I rode on her back.” Alisbeth gives her cousin a scrunched smile.

“Well, we could adver—”

A leather-clad blood elf, who looks like she spent the past year in a jungle, swings an arm over Taveth’s shoulders and smiles. “You advertising for a healer? Or did my ears betray me?”

“_Buh_…” Taveth lets out a breath and turns his head away to suck in another. “Did you _bathe_ in vodka?”

“Aren’t you just so bloody _cute?_” She looks at the others. “_OH!_ Hello there! I remember you lot.”

“Edrah, was it?” Anarchaia says with little enthusiasm.

“I remember you, as well,” Grimory says with a wave. “How goes it?”

“It goes, my darlings. It goes. So, about this—”

“_I remember you!_” Alisbeth stands and shoves the monk, who teeters back in a manner that should send her to her rear, but she recovers and throws her arm back around Taveth. “You almost let Grim die! I don’t like you.”

“Should I have let him die all the way?” She laughs at her own quip and slaps a hand on Taveth’s chest.

The high elf discreetly shifts and deposits the monk onto Anarchaia’s shoulders. “I’m sure Ali is just mad that he wasn’t healed.” He nonchalantly puts some space between them.

“_Pfft_.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Extemenuating circumvences.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” Anarchaia corrects, peeling Edrah off herself and stepping away as well as she covers her nose. “And yes, we need a healer to go…wherever. I take it you’re interested?”

Grimory lifts his brows, mildly amused at the scene before him. “Azsuna.”

Edrah grins at Grimory. “Well, that sounds brilliant. And I would love to go. Thank you so much for inviting me!” She perches on the arm of Grimory’s chair, a palm on his shoulder. “When do we start?”

“Immediately,” Taveth blurts before anyone can reply. “How long do you need to sober up?”

Edrah looks at him for a long time before bursting into a laugh so violent she slips and drops to the floor.

Anarchaia sighs. “She doesn’t, it’s said.”

“She heals just fine as is,” Grimory vouches, waving a hand. “I’d have won if it weren’t for that bitch of a rogue.”

A dagger _thwongs_ into the chair next to Grimory’s head. The demon hunter flinches and jerks to look at the attacker. Across the tavern, a blood elf in a red and black outfit, with barbs on the shoulders and hood, narrows her eyes and holds her index finger and thumb an inch apart. She ducks and fades from view. Immediately recognizing her, he offers up his middle finger in return.

Edrah pulls herself up and spots the dagger. “Ooo! Pretty.” She slips it into the bag at her hip. “So, we leave now?”

Taveth grimaces. “_Never_ sober? But… Why?”

“I’ve seen some things, love. Some bloody awful things. And sober is boring. Let me get my staff!” She rushes across the room to pull a long, wavy piece of wood from under a chair. The top of her staff contains a red jewel with feathers dangling from the sides. “Ready!” She shouts and waves them over.

Alisbeth frowns. “Do we have to? With her?”

“Seriously,” Taveth whines.

Anarchaia shrugs and chuckles. “I mean. I can try Steamvolt again—”

“No,” the demon hunter interjects as he stands. “I’d rather have a drunk healer than a distracted one.”

The mage bristles some. “Oh, honestly, Grim. He’s a nice guy.”

“Mm-hmm. So, are we going?”

“Yes!” Taveth barks. “Seriously. We’ve wasted more than enough time. They have Tha— the Tidestone. Let’s go.” He turns and meets up with the drunken monk, who throws her arm over his shoulder and holds a flask up to his face. He cringes and shies away.

Alisbeth narrows her eyes. “Is it just me or is he being a butthead?”

“He’s…definitely different,” Grimory agrees as he comes to walk abreast with Alisbeth. “Rude, cranky. Like it’s his moonblood.” He smirks. “Back to the academy, then.”

Anarchaia perks. “Oh! I brought a map just in case.” She pulls it from her bag and opens it, then points at the academy. “Here?”

Alisbeth nods, then shakes her head. “No, he said uhm…north. Of the cave. There?” She points at a spot on the map north of the academy.

“Oh. I can actually port us near there. Had some business a while back at this Illidari outpost.” The mage rolls up the map and stows it. She lifts her hands and summons the swirling door of light.

“What business did you have there?” Grimory grunts.

“Nothing impressive,” she responds. “Some _soul searching_, if you will.” She chuckles.

Alisbeth narrows her eyes, gears working in her head. She lets out a nasally _henh_ of a laugh and elbows the mage. “Because they’re dead, right?”

Anarchaia gives Alisbeth a crooked, nervous grin. “I should hope he’s not dead.” She laughs.

Taveth returns to the others, looking flustered and irritated as the monk continues to lean against him—her staff under her arm, flask in hand, and a finger twirling through his ponytail.

“R-right. You’re a mage. Thank you.” Without another pause, he hops through the portal.

Edrah stumbles forward as his support leaves. “I like that boy.” She takes a swig and pats Anarchaia on the ass. “Dibs!” The next second, she’s diving through the portal as though it’s the edge of a cliff with a lake below to catch her.

The mage jumps and flushes as her hind end is touched. “U-uh…good luck with that,” she says after the monk.

“This is gonna be fun.” Grimory chuckles and follows them through.

As the party nears what appear to be ruins surrounded by water and Naga, a nearly transparent figure appears, his arms waving for their attention.

“Oy, who’s the ghostly bloke?” Edrah asks.

Taveth releases his white-knuckle grip on his bag to wave her hand away from his face. “He said his name is Farondis. Some sort of Prince. I think I saw something about him in the academy library, but someone had scribbled over the passage and ripped out the following chapter.”

“I bet he’s a creep and he’s gonna do creep stuff to us,” Alisbeth says through the candy cane in her cheek. She adjusts her positioning on Grimory’s back and giggles with excitement. “Who wants to bet me? I’m really good at bets!”

“I don’t think he’s going to do anything,” Grimory says back to her. “Seems too nice. I’ll take you up on that bet.”

Anarchaia gives a curt bow as they near. “Well met,” she says. “We’ve come to help.”

“And not a moment too soon. There is definite change in the air,” Farondis responds as he returns the bow. “I fear they’re preparing something big. Follow me. I’ll lead you to the portal that leads to their base of operations.”

The monk narrows suspicious eyes on the spirit. “You really expect us to—”

“YES!” Taveth shouts, throwing his hands in the air to untangle her from his shoulders. “He expects us to, and so we are. At least _I_ am. The rest of you can do what you want.” He stomps to follow Prince Farondis.

“Butthead,” Alisbeth whispers in Grimory’s ear.

Grimory snorts. “Jagoff.”

Anarchaia gives Taveth a sideways glance as they walk, too distracted to listen to Farondis’s explanations. “Are you all right? You seem…irritable.”

Taveth glances at the mage. “I’m not irritable!” he partly snaps. “_No one_ understands how precious it is. My bag. My research…” He pulls out one of his new books and a pen, then sighs at the leather journal. “It’s just…not the same. I want _my_ bag and _my_ ink-stained journal. Is that really so much to ask?” He goes to write on the first, pristine, clean page in the book, then frowns and puts everything away. “It’s not the same. This bag is…too light.” _It’s just a dagger. Just a dagger that summons demons that hate you. Demons that if under the command of someone of lesser morals…_ “We need to hurry.”

Anarchaia sets a hand on Taveth’s shoulder in a meager attempt to comfort him. “_I_ understand! If anything ever happened to my library at home, I—_ugh_. I just don’t know what I’d do. Probably kill myself…a-again. Heh.”

Edrah falls back and sets an elbow on Alisbeth’s thigh like it’s a counter. “Are they a thing?” She motions at the two walking ahead with her flask; the liquor sloshes with the motion.

Grimory gives another snort of a laugh. “No. Pretty fit for each other, though, yeah? Nerds.” He cranes his neck as Farondis makes easy work of a Naga bruiser blocking their path.

“Thingless? Good! Excuse meee!” Edrah rushes ahead to squish herself between Anarchaia and Taveth. She presses her face to nearly touching the high elf’s cheek with her nose. “Hello, thingless. What say we tell this lot to bugger off and we say bollox this portal of doom thingy and _we_ go have a _thing_.”

“Help,” Taveth whispers so quietly to the mage that he’s sure she didn’t hear. He turns his head away to cough in some fresh air. “It’s like I might get second-hand drunk.” He coughs again.

“You know what I like about places like this?” Alisbeth asks. “It’s easy to get lost. Especially for drunk, unsuspecting little brats who never see it coming.” She sighs wistfully. “Not that I’m talking about anyone specific. Because I’m not. I have no monks in mind. Hm-mmm.”

Grimory chuckles. “Why don’t you guys like her? I think she’s a riot. Look how flustered she’s got Tav.”

Anarchaia blinks, having heard everything. “U-uh!” She wedges herself between Edrah and the other elf, throwing her arm over Taveth’s shoulder and the other hand on her hip. “_Actually,_” she says nonchalantly, drumming her fingers on Taveth’s shoulder. “He _does_ have a thing. Heh.”

Farondis stops to turn and look at the group, an unimpressed scowl on his face. “Is this going to be an issue?”

Taveth tenses at the mention of him having a thing, but does his best to hide it. He casts his attention to Farondis and shakes his head. “There is no problem. None at all.”

Alisbeth makes a face. “She almost let you _die!_ I’m sure she’s nice and all, but…” She pouts, unable to find a valid reason to actually hate the monk.

“I think it was more of a skill cap than actual intent on letting me die,” Grimory muses, scratching at his beard.

Farondis sighs and turns, motioning to a crumbled tower in the center of a bloodied battlefield studded with murloc hatcheries and large Naga soldiers. “Here,” he says. “Just down these steps.”

Taveth eyes the crumbling tower. “In there?”

“Yes. Through that portal.”

“Wait.” Edrah taps the mage. “What sort of thing? They said he was thingless.”

Anarchaia clears her throat. “Well I’m not sure who told you that but they’re clearly mistaken.”

Alisbeth purses her lips. “Are you going to make me try to like her?”

Grimory tilts his head to look at Alisbeth. “I’m not making you do anything. Simply giving my opinion.” He descends the stairs, past Farondis and into the portal without waiting for an explanation.

Taveth chuckles nervously and stumbles his way through the portal as he fixes a strange expression on the mage.

“But…what thing? What’s the thing?” Edrah asks, following the others through the portal. On the other side she gasps. Naga training on lush green slopes, mountains surrounding the whole area with the sea beyond. “Bloody hell.” She takes a drink from her flask.

<<I’m helping you,>> Anarchaia hisses in Darnassian, not thinking about whether or not he can understand. She stops to look around at the scenery as well. “_Bloody hell_ indeed.”

Grimory sets Alisbeth down and rubs his hands together. He inhales long through his nose. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Taveth turns to the mage and sighs. <<Fine. Just…don’t take it too far.>>

Alisbeth gives a dark laugh. “Fun, indeed.” She unsheathes her axe. “Time to feed the baby.”


	31. Chapter 31

Edrah blinks at the death knight, then leans to Anarchaia. “She alright?”

Anarchaia narrows her eyes and blinks, resisting the sass, then shakes her head. “Yeah. She’s always like this.” Her hands erupt in flames as she sees Grimory leap into a group of unsuspecting Naga soldiers.

The demon hunter grins as he thrusts his claws through the caster before she’s able to complete her spell. Blood sprays and he gives a sigh of contentment.

Alisbeth leaps in behind the demon hunter and buries her axe into a Naga creeping up behind Grimory.

Edrah looks over at Taveth as she drops a serpent statue on the ground and channels a healing mist to envelope the demon hunter. “You gonna jump into this fray, cutie?”

He clears his throat. “I don’t fight.”

Anarchaia surrounds the group with flames that rise from the ground like tendrils, burning only those they mean to burn. She groans and follows the other two as they excitedly dash to the next patrol group. “I’ve quickly recalled why I hate this.”

Alisbeth turns to raise her thumb over her shoulder at the mage. “Keep doing that! You rock, Apoo!”

“Is her name actually Apoo?” Edrah hisses to Taveth.

“Nope.” He strides past to keep up with the others.

Anarchaia cringes and follows the duo. The three make an easy task of carving a path through the low-ranking Naga and occasional brute. They come upon a small enclave surrounded by a rocky outcrop. In the center stands a male Naga that towers before the group, spear in hand.

“Intruders?” He bellows.

“No dialogue, please,” Grimory groans, the tips of his claws smoldering despite the blood.

Taveth gasps. “That’s, that’s him! He was in the academy. He took my bag!” Taveth runs forward, ahead of the others. “Where is it?” <<_Where is it?_>>

“Tav? _TAV!_” Alisbeth runs after him.

The monk rolls closer. “No dying on my watch, pretty boy!”

Grimory grits his fangs as the warlord lifts his spear toward Taveth. He blows fire at the Naga’s base. The creature groans in pain and thrusts the pointed end at Grimory instead.

“Pathetic worms. You are too late to stop us!” He growls again when more orange fire licks at his face.

Alisbeth leaps on the serpent’s back, burying the spikes of her axe into his spine. Taveth ducks away from the flames, narrowly missing a plate boot to his head as he dives into the grass. He scrambles away, shaking, as he looks around desperately for his bag.

“Don’t go too far, now!” Edrah shouts. “What’ve you gotten yourself into, Edrah?” she mutters to herself. “A damned bloody mess, that’s what. Should’ve stayed with the damned—” she dives to the side as a Naga and a Myrmidon slither from behind to attack Anarchaia, “—dragons.”

The warlord laughs as his duo of underlings advance on his attackers. The witch covers her commander in healing waters while the soldier raises his sword above the mage. He whips around every which way to grab at Alisbeth.

Grimory growls and hurls a silencing sigil below the witch to interrupt her casting.

Anarchaia turns and shrinks at the descending blade. In a panic, she blinks out of the way and into Edrah with an _oof!_.

“Would you get your clumsy arse—ahh!” Edrah grunts as she tangles further together with the mage. She throws a few good heals out to make sure no one is too hurt in her distraction.

Taveth skitters away from the commotion when he doesn’t see his bag anywhere.

“You!” The warlord points at Taveth. “I’ll skewer you!” He readies a spear.

Alisbeth pulls harder, trying to throw him off target, but he doesn’t budge.

Grimory’s gaze flicks between all three of his enemies. He runs forward to the soldier and spits a fire at his face. “_Ay, asshole!_” He turns and runs when the sword swipes at him, making a path between the warlord and Taveth. The former hurls his spear with great force and speed, but the soldier intercepts its path. The scaled militia skids across the dirt, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

“Fool!” the warlord spits. “Get out of the way!”

Anarchaia quickly leaps to her feet, a grin beneath her mask. “Grim you’re a genius!”

Taveth drops to the ground, panting to slow his furiously beating heart. He stares at the sky, feeling the claws of frustration slip around him. _I wonder if Naga would know how to use the dagger. Could just leave it here and hope for the best…_

“Don’t blinking blink on me!” Edrah says, leaping to her feet with a graceful flourish which should be impossible at her level of intoxication. “Bloody, blinking fool.” She taps Anarchaia on the ass with the gnarled end of her staff. She throws her hands out and encompasses Grimory in a huge, green sphere, then throws down her serpent statue and works soothing mist over him to close the wounds inflicted.

Parjesh jerks to the side, sending Alisbeth flying into the Naga witch. The axe instead buries itself in the Naga’s forehead. The being hisses and summons a lightning storm to knock the elf from her face.

“Stop that!” Alisbeth sends ice into the Naga’s mind.

The witch screeches and claws at the plate gear covering the death knight.

Anarchaia turns and bristles. “It was an _accident_! Trust me, there’s better company here to blink into.” She assists Alisbeth with lighting the witch on fire and the woman cries in agony as she slowly sinks to the ground.

The warlord jabs at Grimory again and growls when he misses. “Hold still, vermin!” He hisses in pain when the demon hunter’s claws dig into his armored chest.

“Ali! One more time at his spine!” Grimory calls, blowing fire into the Naga’s face to blind him.

Alisbeth jumps over the warlord’s slithering tail, then leaps onto his back again. She sinks her axe higher in his spine. His head rears back and he screams out a shrill hiss as she twists the weapon. “Finish him!” Alisbeth calls. “Light him on fire!”

Grimory exhales to blow more flames, but before the cinders can leave his mouth a torrent of fire several stories tall engulfs the warlord. The Naga abandons grabbing at Alisbeth to howl as he burns. After a moment of panicking and calling for help from his subordinates, he falls, crackling, into the earth.

Grimory turns to Anarchaia, lips in an unimpressed line.

The mage shrugs. “She said light him on fire…”

Alisbeth throws a red shell around herself and dances away from the smoldering serpentine, shoving her toes into the grass to extinguish the small flames. She runs over, still steaming, to grab Anarchaia in a huge hug. She twirls her in the air. “I love you! That’s, like, the best thing ever and I want to take you hunting with me and you can light things on fire and I can kill it but not in that order but we’ll have so much fun because that’s just awesome!”

Anarchaia wheezes as her lungs are crushed. “Sure…thing…Ali.”

“You’re going to make her hurl,” Taveth says, unamused. “Now, anyone see my bag? Or did you _incinerate_ it?”

Edrah snorts and leans on her staff as she takes a swig from her flask. “Did you see any pockets on that lizard? No. Unless he _ate_ your bag, I think it’s safe to say he didn’t have it.”

Taveth growls. “We have to keep moving.”

Grimory casts Taveth an irritated glance. “All right your attitude’s gotta change, Tav. It’s getting annoying. We’re all helping you here, yeah?”

Taveth bristles. “My _attitude_? I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s so wrong with being worried? Nothing. _Nothing!_” He strides up to the demon hunter and pokes him in the sternum. “A precious item is missing and so I am concerned. _Concerned._ Understand? Do you _know_ what a Naga could _do_ with that kind of power? You _don’t_. We just, we have to keep moving. Heh-heh.” He turns away, heading for the road that wraps around the side of island. “Have to keep moving.” He undoes his ponytail and runs fingers through his straw-colored hair, trying to capture it to retie it. “_Attitude_. Ha!”

Grimory’s eye gives a twitch; small embers flutter out from them as they threaten to ignite. He clenches his teeth and watches him go. “Gonna throttle him,” he murmurs through his fangs and follows, pushing past the rest and slashing the head off a giant snail as it approaches.

Alisbeth narrows her eyes and puckers her lips in suspicion. “Butthead, yes. Losing it? Maybe. He needs a drink.” She runs past the monk, snatching the flask as it reaches her lips. “Taking this, thanks!”

Edrah’s mouth drops open in shock. “That’s mine!” She chases after the death knight.

Alisbeth shoves the flask into Taveth’s face. The man instinctively flinches and dodges sideways, then glares at his cousin.

“Don’t do that.”

Anarchaia gives a nervous titter sand grabs Alisbeth by the arm. “Let’s just keep moving. Heh.”

Edrah rips her flask from the death knight’s hand. “_Mine._” She takes a drink, then holds it out. “Care for a nip?”

Alisbeth pauses and stares at the flask. “I, um… Yeah, sure.” She takes a sip and cringes. “That’s…”

“Incredible, right? Made it m’self.” She tips back another mouthful.

“I was going to say potent and a little vile.”

“Acquired taste, dearie. So, the one in red says the cute grumpy boy _does_ have a thing. What thing?”

Alisbeth blinks at her. “I don’t know.” She runs to the front of the group to help dispatch an angry turtle. “Hi, Grim! Don’t drink from the flask. Kay?” She runs past him to look across the expanse. A huge Naga witch stands waiting in a small pool of water.

“No promises.” Grimory sucks on his teeth as he looks about. “I suppose we could just bypass her…but where’s the fun in that, yeah?” He pushes past Alisbeth and readies his claws again, stomping on a sentient globule of water as it nears to investigate.

Anarchaia bustles behind as she tries to keep up. “I get time is of the essence, but let’s keep together!”

Taveth races to catch up to the demon hunter. He stoops to examine the water globule as he grabs a pen from his bag. Cautiously, he pokes the globule. It undulates and shivers, then bumps into him, knocking him into the shallow water. “I think I angered it!” He skitters backward, but the water chases him.

Edrah races forward and slaps the side of the water with her palm. It slaps against her ankles. “Ow, this actually hurts?” She jumps over it and tip-toes through the water to hide behind Grimory.

Anarchaia freezes the droplets solid and melts them with a few flames. “Simple elementals. Nothing to worry about.”

Grimory turns just in time to see the globules taken care of. “Right. Well, then.” He gently nudges Edrah away before hurling himself at the gigantic witch. She screeches about her casting being interrupted and the demon hunter rolls his eyes as he nimbly dodges one of her flailing arms.

Alisbeth races to catch up to Grimory. She gives the demon hunter a goofy smile, then leaps onto Lady Hatecoil’s tail. The Naga raises her arms to the sky. “Fry, landwalkers!”

“Oh, bollocks.” Edrah rolls to a nearby patch of try land and drags Taveth up beside her.

“Get out of the—”

Electricity jolts through the shallow waters around them. Alisbeth releases the writhing tail and falls onto her back in the water. The shock zaps through her plate armor and into her body.

Anarchaia quickly blinks to a safe place, then cringes and looks away as Alisbeth falls victim to the lightning.

Grimory lifts himself out of the water with his wings, the liquid below rippling with the gusts. “Ali!” He steps toward her when he lands, but the Naga witch sends an armada of globules to attack him. He growls and attempts to evaporate them with a sigil of fire.

Coughing, Alisbeth rolls over and spits into the water. She crawls onto a little pad of land to catch her breath. As she goes to stand, lightning streaks down and breaks the sandy dune into nothing, leaving the death knight in the water once more. “Oh, come on! Fucking bitch! Landwalkers gonna kick your scaly ass!” She shoves herself to her feet and leaps onto Hatecoil’s back. She rakes the blade of her axe across the serpent scales and laughs. “Like scaling a fish. Fishy, fishy, fishy!”

The monk blinks at the death knight and turns to Taveth. “Is she always so random?”

Taveth blinks at the monk and goes to answer, but decides against it and lets out a heavy sigh. “You should probably do healy stuff.”

Lady Hatecoil hisses in pain and sweeps one of her arms to summon a tornado atop herself in an attempt to hurl Alisbeth off. “You pests are beginning to annoy me!” She brings her tail around to strike Grimory and send him flying but the Illidari rolls out of the way in the nick of time, only to be hit by the backswing.

Anarchaia grits her teeth and hurls multiple icicles at the witch’s face. She howls in pain and irritation as one finds its way into her eye and summons more lightning strikes.

Alisbeth grips tighter to the Naga, planting the spikes of the Maw of the Damned into Hatecoil’s back. When the tail whips Grimory, Alisbeth jumps from her back. “Don’t touch him!” She gets between the Illidari and the tail, then lifts her axe high, swinging to cut the appendage off.

Grimory peels himself off the rock he’d collided with and shakes his head to relieve the daze. He lifts his head just in time to be hit with a spray of blood as the witch’s tail disconnects. He spits out the bit that gets in his mouth. “Fishy.”

Edrah grits her teeth and rolls away from a tornado bearing down on the sand dune she and Taveth occupy.

Taveth runs to stand near Anarchaia instead. “You’re a fire mage, yes? But are you also trained in some frost abilities?” he asks, a plan forming in his mind.

“I’m adept in all schools,” Anarchaia responds over her shoulder as she evaporates more summoned sentient sea droplets. “Why?”

Taveth smirks at the mage. “Lots of water here. Is your ice cold enough to freeze _her_?” He points at the Naga.

“And then what?” the forsaken girl responds while blinding the witch with projectiles bright enough to distract her from Alisbeth and her hacking.

“Have you ever poured hot water onto an ice cube? It cracks. Between you and Grim, you have enough heat, Ali can then theoretically shatter her. Can you do it?”

The mage nods and motions to Edrah and the others. “Get on land, guys!”

Grimory’s ears perk at the command and he does as he’s told shortly after jumping back into the fray and commanding her attention again. “Ali, watch out.”

Alisbeth hops backward onto a patch of land.

Taveth pats Anarchaia’s shoulder. “Okay, do it!”

Anarchaia nods and crouches down to place her hands in the water. Tendrils of ice shoot from her fingers and quickly creep up the Naga’s body. She twists and turns in an attempt to free herself before even her head is frozen solid. The mage quickly returns to blasting the solidified witch with bursts of fire.

After shaking some residual frost from his boot, Grimory gives a nod of understanding at the plan and does the same.

“Ali, hit her!” Taveth shouts.

Alisbeth takes a running leap and brings her sword down on the Naga’s head. She shatters beneath the edge in a rain of frozen, crimson shards. The death knight’s boots hit the ground and she tucks into a ball to avoid being burned by her companions’ fires. When she opens one eye, she finds herself cocooned in a green sphere, her feet floating inches over the ground.

Edrah smirks and drinks from her flask. “Told you I wasn’t incompetent.”

“I don’t recall anyone saying you were,” Anarchaia mutters as she stirs and sets a hand on her head.

Grimory smiles up at Alisbeth. “Good job up there.”

Alisbeth giggles as the bubble pops and she drops to stand on solid ground. She wraps her arms over Grimory’s shoulders and gives him a little kiss on the cheek, then nips at his earlobe. “Bet you enjoyed that, huh?”

The Illidari blushes and casts a quick glance over his shoulder at the others, a nervous grin playing at his lips. “Always do.” He gives her backside a gentle pat before making for the path they’d been venturing.

Taveth’s nose wrinkles of its own volition at his cousin before he looks away, blushing. The high elf retrieves the new notebook and pen and begins sketching the two formidable foes they’d face thus far, before the memories could fade. Edrah leans against him, causing his pen to streak across the page. He shoves her down into the mud.

“_Stop touching me!_” His eyes glow a deeper purple as he shouts, and she shrinks away from him. Then his eyes brighten to their normal lavender and he turns back to the book.

Swallowing a drink, the monk runs to the others. “That bloke is not right in the head, you hear me?”

Anarchaia gives Edrah a concerned look as she approaches. “He’s not normally like this,” she says low enough that Taveth cannot hear, and follows Grimory as she speaks. “He’s…different.”

Edrah shakes her head. “Well _something_ has got his knickers in a twist.”

Alisbeth gives the monk a strange look. “You talk funny.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, you do. I like it.” She turns back and frowns at the serpent in the middle of the area, blocking their path.

Taveth runs to catch up with the group and pulls frantically at Anarchaia’s arm. “My bag! It’s over there, I know it! Go kill that thing.” He points off to the side where four Naga witches channel energy into a towering entity whose body radiates with watery energy.

The mage jerks in surprise and looks in the direction he’s pointing. She swallows. “I-it would take all of my energy to kill something that big. Grim!” She motions as the demon hunter turns. “Taveth says his bag is that way.”

Grimory shrugs and sets a course for the whirlpool to the east. As he nears, however, a finger of electricity surges from the swirling clouds above the monstrosity and he’s sent reeling. The coral in the tidepool cuts his hand as he braces himself on it and he hisses. “Yeah, no.”

“I’ll _get it myself_,” Taveth hisses. He strides forward, his brow low and his eyes dark.

Alisbeth leaps on him, pinning her cousin to the ground. “You wanna get zapped? Cause that’s how you get zapped.”

The monk lazily envelopes Grimory in a soothing mist as she takes a heavy drink and stares at Taveth. “I’d rather you didn’t do that. It’ll kill a little bugger like you in one strike. On the bright side, you wouldn’t care about your bag anymore.”

The Illidari wipes his bloodied-but-healed hands on his pants and sighs. “Guess we’ll have to find another way around. Preferably one that doesn’t kill us.” He wades through the shallow pools back toward the watchful serpent.

Anarchaia folds her arms and sighs. “If you keep taking it upon yourself to do ridiculous things, I’ll be forced to drag you along the rest of this trip as a sheep.”

Taveth growls under the death knight. “_Fine._” Alisbeth lets him up and he stands, attention still pulled to the creature, his palms tingling.

Alisbeth kicks his boot. “Come on, butthead.”

“Where do you think the lightning is coming from?” Edrah asks Grimory as she catches up to him.

Grimory gives a shrug. “It looks like they’re summoning some sort of hurricane. I assume we should probably take care of it. Looks dangerous. Not only that, but I’m willing to bet it has that super important relic we need…” He sizes up the serpent as it glares down at him with its one eye. “Gross.”

Alisbeth grins at Grimory. “You afraid to wrestle with a one-eyed-snake?”

Edrah slaps a hand over her face as alcohol sprays from her nose.

Alisbeth laughs evilly and runs at the serpent, her axe raised as she shouts a battle cry.

Grimory snorts a laugh but does not smile. “Gods knows you aren’t.” He rushes forward but is forced to dodge as the serpent immediately spits poisonous green liquid at him.

Taveth looks at Anarchaia. “I’m missing something.”

“Cock joke,” Anarchaia grunts as she steps to the side to avoid a few drops. She retaliates with a well-aimed fireball to its gigantic eye.

Taveth jumps to the side, avoiding acidic droplets. “I don’t get it.”

Edrah snorts. “You’re so precious.”

“What?”

Alisbeth laughs from her position of trying to climb up the serpent’s slick, slithering body to plant her axe in its head. “Don’t hurt yourself over it, Tav!” She slides back down into the pool of water below and growls. She holds out her axe and hacks at the long neck like a tree trunk.

“Cocks have one eye and look like serpents,” Anarchaia further explains in a matter-of-fact tone as she summons a swirling cloud above the monster’s head.

Hail rains down upon it and between Alisbeth’s hacking, Grimory’s fire, and Anarchaia’s ice, the serpent hisses in anger and submerges into the pool. Shortly after three heads rise out of neighboring pools, spouting fire and more toxins.

Taveth’s neck and face flood crimson. “Vulgar.” He hops away from a pool as a purple serpent pops up through the water. “Yep, can’t unsee that.”

Edrah giggles. “Poor, innocent thing. I can cure you of that, you know.”

The high elf ignores the monk as Alisbeth runs past him with a quick pat on his head. She shoots ice at the head of a red serpent, silencing its shriek. She makes quick work of the red one, then returns to the main serpent.

“You’ll further traumatize him,” Anarchaia mutters and blinks behind the violet head to freeze the pool it’s in.

It cries out in pain as the blood rushing to its brain freezes. Grimory takes up the opportunity to dash forward as well, raking his claws in a circle at the frozen base until the entire head breaks off and slams into the sand.

“_WOULD YOU DIE ALREADY?_” Alisbeth kicks the serpent several times and whines. In response a drop of poison lands directly on her. She yelps and runs away, leaving green patches behind as she swipes it from her. “Get it off! It burns!”

Edrah frowns as her attempts to remove the venom fail. Instead, she envelopes Alisbeth in several layers of mists to ease the pain and heal the wounds.

Anarchaia sidesteps as Alisbeth runs by and bends down to observe the poison herself. She resists the urge to prod the liquid and observe its properties.

Grimory also dodges the pools and bolts forward with grit fangs. Spines protruding from his back and shoulders, he spreads his wings and leaps up to the beast’s head. It thrashes about and he digs his claws into its scales to steady himself.

Taveth gives the mage a knowing smile. “Here.” He pulls a wide-mouthed jar from his bag, scoops some toxin in, then corks it and shakes the excess off. “For you. Just…let me look at it when you’re done. Oh, and—”

“We’re still bloody fighting!” Edrah shouts and kicks a rock at him.

Alisbeth returns to the neck of the serpent and sends her axe into the flesh over and over.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” the mage responds while at the same time taking the jar and sending it away in a flurry of sparkles. “Thank you.”

“_Ana!_” Grimory growls, still holding on.

Anarchaia jumps. “Oh! Right!”

She bounds over to freeze the pool in a similar fashion to the previous. The beast slows in its thrashing, giving the Illidari time to dig his claws into the serpent’s eye. With a bestial cry, he rips the orb from its skull and hurls it aside. The ground quakes as the monster joins its other heads in the damp sands.

Alisbeth kicks the head as she strides past. “If I had to fight that thing again, I’d just kill myself. That was not fun.”

“Aye. Like a deadly Whack-A-Gnoll.” Edrah also kicks the corpse.

Alisbeth smiles at the monk. “Thanks for the save back there. I wanted to peel my own skin off.”

Edrah throws her arm over the death knight’s shoulders. “I don’t think that’d be a good look on you. Drink?”

“Why not?” Alisbeth accepts the flask and takes a drink, her gaze fixed on Grimory to make sure he’s paying attention to her trying to be nice.

Taveth shuffles up to the mage and whispers behind her shoulder, “When you return it, lend me your notes?”

Anarchaia smiles beneath her mask as she straightens. She chuckles and sets a hand on his shoulder as she passes. “Of course, Tav.”

Grimory washes his bloody hands in a tidepool and stretches as he straightens. He gives Alisbeth a faint smile before he turns and looks over the beach. “Where to next? The storm hasn’t subsided, yet. And I’m getting sick of being wet.” No sooner do the words leave his mouth than rain begins to pour from the clouds above. He sighs as his normally well-kept hair sags about his face and forehead.

“Let’s wait it out in that cave!” Edrah says. She doesn’t wait for the others, but takes off for the shelter.

Taveth hugs the new satchel to his chest. “I second that!” He rushes after her.

Alisbeth smiles up at the sky. “It’s just a little rain!” She spins in slow circles, kicking up her feet in a half-hearted jig.

Anarchaia pulls her good up about her head and, despite doing that, creates a small air pocket above herself to stave off the rain. She follows calmly in Edrah’s path.

“Maybe to you,” Grimory grumbles. He notices Anarchaia’s makeshift umbrella and quickly ducks beneath it. Amidst adjusting his hair, he notices the proximity between the two and flushes, stepping away to just the edge of the barrier and chuckling. “Thanks, Ana.”

Alisbeth dances her way to the cave, using her Maw of the Damned as a partner.

Before the others get there, Edrah takes a moment to size Taveth up. “What’s your story?”

He blinks at her. “I don’t understand what you mean.” He turns away and finds a secluded spot to put on his spectacles and sketch out the serpent in his journal, noting its properties. He saves several pages after for the research on the venom sample.

As they reach the cave, Grimory quickly gets to fixing his hair using hot emerald flames.

Anarchaia sighs as she scrutinizes the cave. “It’s a shame we don’t have a map,” she muses. A gigantic snail slithers by and she reaches out to pet its shell. She dries her robes and observes Alisbeth with her axe. “Graceful. Has he had lessons?” she chuckles.

Alisbeth ducks into the cave and grins. “Taught him myself.”

“Aww, well isn’t that just…terrifying,” Edrah says, turning away from the sharp teeth of the gaping skull.

The mage titters again. “You wouldn’t dance with a skeleton? That’s awfully racist.”

“_Dead_ is not a race.” Edrah smirks at the others.

Alisbeth shrugs. “That’s okay. I mean, you never know if it might—” she brings the skull right to the monk’s face, “—_eat you!_”

Edrah skitters back and falls on her rear in the sand. They both burst into laughter.

The corner of Anarchaia’s lips twitch and she forces a laugh. “I suppose you’re right. Heh.” She rests her weight on a hip and gives a genuine chuckle at the two.


	32. Chapter 32

Taveth glances up at the sound of Anarchaia’s voice, then pushes his glasses up with a knuckle. He pauses as a reflection catches his attention. Deeper in the cave, a group of murlocs runs into view, then back behind the wall. _How deep is this cave?_ He puts his things away, then turns to make sure he’s completely hidden from the others. The elf positions his hands, then spins them. A green ball with a yellow slit for a pupil takes shape in his fingers. He drops it to the ground and closes his eyes.

The Eye zips across the sand, avoiding the merlocs, even though they can’t see it. On the other side the Eye comes back outside into the rain and wind. It spins, then zips to the right. It stops abruptly after spotting a towering skrog with his arms aloft, energy flows from him up into the sky to create the epicenter of the storm.

Grimory glances around when he sees they’re missing a head. He leaves the girls to talk among one another. He spots Taveth and tilts his head at the man’s behavior.

He sets a hand on his shoulder. “You all right there, Tav?”

Taveth jolts as his concentration is broken. The Eye disappears into a cloud of green smoke as the elf opens his eyes and blinks at Grimory. “Hmm? Oh. Yes. I was just…thinking.”

“Of course you were. C’mon. We gotta find a way to kill that storm.” Grimory jerks his head in the direction of the girls.

Taveth purses his lips and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I, uh… I might know a way.”

Grimory turns back to give Taveth a curious glance. “Oh, really? I’m all ears.” He furrows his brow. “No pun intended.”

Taveth’s mouth crooks sideways. “Heh, yeah. So, um… W-watch the back of the cave for a minute.”

Grimory leans away, suspicious. “All right.” He turns to do as he’s told. “What about it?”

“Just wait.” After a few seconds, the murlocs run into view, regroup, then turn around and run back the way they came. “Murlocs don’t typically inhabit deep caves. They prefer to be in close proximity to water.”

“So, they’re stupid. What of it?”

Taveth blinks at Grimory, wishing he’d have caught on. “They’re not the only ones,” he mutters as he strides away from the demon hunter and deeper into the cave. _It’s a wonder he knows how to breathe._

Grimory’s ears perk and he scowls after the man. “Prick,” he says without any indication of hiding his tone and folds his arms. “Don’t get into trouble,” he then sneers and sits back to watch him go.

Taveth reaches just before the murlocs and ducks into a corner which hides him from both the murlocs and Grimory. He circles his fingers together and twists, summoning his Eye once more. The Eye zips out past the murlocs to a safe area at the mouth of the cave. A drop of green energy falls from the Eye and expands into a purple and green gateway with swirling energy inside. Taveth opens his eyes and steps out. He narrows his eyes at Grimory, then waves goodbye and disappears into a pile of ash.

Brow still furrowed, Grimory jerks his hands in frustration and turns. “Girls,” he says when he rounds the corner. “Tav found a way out back here. Let’s go.”

Anarchaia nods and follows. “Back out into the rain, though. Is your hair going to survive?’

He makes a face at her, tongue poking through his teeth like a dog sneering at broccoli. “I’d rather get Taveth’s bullshit bag and get out of here.”

Alisbeth skips over to Grimory and hooks her arm through his. After observing the frantically running murlocs, her brow furrows. “Where’s Tav?”

The demon hunter shrugs. “Turned into a pile of ash. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen and she tilts her head. “I’m sorry. A _pile of ash_?”

“Mmhm. This way.”

Alisbeth frowns as tears rim her eyes. “But…_no_… Tav can’t have spontaneously combusted! He’s my favorite cousin ever! And _Diori!_ She’d be heartbroken!”

Edrah rolls her eyes, shrugging off the apprehension for the man’s life. “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably.”

“Spontaneous combustion is actually a myth,” Anarchaia interjects before Grimory can respond. “You see there’s this process called _wicking_ that—”

“Okay, thank you, Ana. But no, seriously. I’m sure he’s okay.” He blows a cloud of fire over the approaching murlocs and the smell of cooking fish rises. “There.” He points out into the rain with a lumbering skrog and more frantic murlocs.

Alisbeth runs to the opening. “Taveth!” She runs out into the storm. “_Taveth! Are you dead?_”

Edrah makes a face. “Does she know he can’t answer if he’s dead?”

“He’s not dead,” Grimory hisses as he passes Alisbeth. He sets his shoulder near the cave mouth and walks slowly past the skrog. He holds back a sigh as his blond mane once again deflates.

Anarchaia pulls her hood up again and glances about. “I suppose Grim’s got _some_ logic in that head of his,” she says reassuringly. “If he were to be dead, he wouldn’t just poof into ash without any cause or reason. Murlocs certainly haven’t been known to do that to people.”

“But— But what if these are…attack murlocs! Frikkin murlocs with frikkin lazer beams on their frikkin heads!” Alisbeth shakes Anarchaia furiously to emphasize her point.

Anarchaia tenses as her brain is jostled around in her skull. “They haven’t been known for that, either,” she mumbles as they near a rocky outcrop near the shore. Wet seagulls flutter about and more giant snails laze along.

Edrah blinks and swigs her drink. “I want whatever you’re on, lady.”

Grimory jumps as a crash of lightning strikes just to his left. He skitters away and looks around frantically, a sudden feeling of vulnerability washing over him. “Okay, where the hell did he go?”

Taveth reaches up and urgently slaps Grimory’s boot. His lavender eyes wide with panic, he ushers them all to follow him off the rock. “Don’t let them see you! They _also_ don’t like to be spoken to in their own language.”

The demon hunter jumps again at the unexpected tapping of his boot. He follows. “Who? The murlocs?” He blinks. “And don’t think you can get away without telling how you poofed into dust.”

“The skrogs, I assume he means,” Anarchaia mumbles, again summoning her air pocket. “If I get sick again, I swear to gods…”

Edrah nonchalantly detoxes Anarchaia. “You should be fine, love.” She smiles and leans against the rock.

Taveth hides behind the others. “Skrogs. Yes. That one tried to _step_ on me! I thought I could do this peacefully, but they are as rude as they are ugly.”

“Nothing here is peaceful, Tav. Not even the water.” The muscles in his arms creak as they mutate into claws. “Only one way to handle rude, ugly people.” He chuckles and runs ahead, slashing at the ankles of the pair guarding a rotting wooden archway at the top of a slope.

Anarchaia thanks Edrah with a smile the monk cannot see and quickly follows Grimory to aid him. She freezes the foot of one to the ground and the skrog merely shatters the ice, grumbling in annoyance. The mage frowns. “I’m losing potency.”

“Aim for the eyes, Ana!” Taveth says. “Short bursts to blind them. Let the others do the heavy stuff.” He sets a hand on her shoulder and smiles kindly. “We need you strong.”

Alisbeth runs back and forth between the skrogs’ legs, cutting her axe into the flesh. “I’m tired. I want to go home. So, you need to _die!_” She raises her axe upward to his loincloth. The skrog howls in pain and stops moving long enough for her to scramble up the netting on his body and wedge herself in the ropes at his shoulder.

“Be careful up there!” Edrah shouts. “I can’t stop you from hitting the ground, you know!”

The mage flushes and gives a nervous titter. “R-right!” She does as she’s instructed to do, sending small shards of ice directly into both skrogs’ eyes.

They growl in their natural tongue and stomp about. One manages to kick Grimory into the rocky wall nearby, causing a small avalanche of debris to rain down on him before he can recover.

Anarchaia groans, concerned. “Ali! The throat! Cut his throat!”

Alisbeth grimaces and resists the urge to run to Grimory. She slits the skrog’s throat and scrambles out of the ropes as it falls forward. She leaps to the other, but slips on his slick shoulder. She catches herself on a rope, but drops her axe into the sand below. “Grim! Are you okay?”

Edrah wraps the demon hunter in a green cocoon, cursing at everything.

Taveth runs forward to get Alisbeth’s axe. He tries to lift it, but the head falls back into the sand. “Why is this so heavy?”

Grimory groans as the gashes in his head heal. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He inhales sharply as the remaining skrog lifts a foot to next stomp on the smaller blond elf below him. Not having time to call out, the demon hunter dashes forward. He grabs Taveth by the arm and pushes him out of the way just in time for the foot to come down; it pushes Alisbeth’s axe further into the sand. He coughs when the impact knocks sand into his mouth and throat.

Anarchaia does her best to keep the gigantic man blinded but finds her efforts growing weaker.

Taveth does the only thing he can think of and grabs a stone to throw at the skrog. It hits the giant on the side of the head and Taveth cringes. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” The elf runs as the skrog spins, its foot turning the Maw onto its side in the sand.

“You’re _sorry?_” Edrah scoffs. “If you survive, I’m kicking your arse.”

Alisbeth kicks her feet in the air and whines, twisting her caught wrist around in the ropes, but they hold fast, instead tearing open her skin.

Grimory grits his fangs and spreads his wings to leap up. He uses his claws to slash at the ropes binding Alisbeth, and frees her. He drops down and waits for her to fall, then catches her in his arms and gives a charming smile. “Hey.”

Anarchaia throws a much larger shard of ice in the giant’s face and it stumbles onto its back. The blade of the axe embeds itself in his lower back and he groans in pain as blood stains the sand in waves. She also cringes. “I’m sorry, too.”

Alisbeth squeaks as she lands in his arms, then scrunches her face in a grin. “Hey yourself.” She licks his lips then hops from his arms. “Slashy thing his throat!” She points excitedly at the skrog as though Grimory can’t see it.

Edrah purses her lips. “Let me get that wrist for you.” Pale green swirls at Alisbeth’s wrist, then leaves and the wound is healed.

Grimory gives a dutiful nod and leaps onto the skrog’s stomach as it struggles to move. “Nothing personal,” he mumbles and buries his claws into the monster’s neck. More blood joins the rest on the earth below and the skrog gurgles. Its flailing limbs slow to a stop and it takes its last breath.

Anarchaia quickly turns with her hands over her ears and mutters unintelligible things under her breath to drown out the noise.

Taveth gags and shudders. “That’s disgusting.”

Edrah stomps over to him and sends her boot into his rear. “You’re _sorry?_” She pops Anarchaia on the arm. “Both of you. Ugh!”

Anarchaia jumps and rubs at her arm, then deflates in relief when she hears the sound’s stopped. “It’s okay to be sympathetic, you know.”

Alisbeth moans and wraps Grimory’s blood covered arms around her. She presses her back to his chest and forces his hands up and down her torso.

Edrah frowns. “Okay, _that’s_ disgusting.”

Grimory flushes and gives a nervous chuckle, then pulls her tightly to him to speak quietly into her ear through his teeth. “Save it for later, please.”

Alisbeth pouts. “But it’s so warm and wet.” She puts his hands on her face. “I want it everywhere.”

Taveth turns around, then turns around again, eyes wide. “What in the name of all the gods is going on back there?”

“Depravity,” Anarchaia says tiredly, adjusting her robes and skirting around the growing pool of blood in the damp sand. She makes her way up the gentle slope toward the archway.

Grimory pulls his ears back as Anarchaia nears and laughs again. “Warm and wet later.” He squishes Alisbeth’s cheeks together with a hand. “When we’re alone, yeah?” He hops down and extends a hand to help the death knight down as well.

Taveth rolls his eyes. “Oh, no. Please. By all means, do whatever you’re doing. Not like there’s a creature of unimaginable power being conjured on the beach.” He follows Anarchaia and leans in to whisper. “What in the— I— Is this common with them?”

Edrah takes a moment to inspect the blood-soaked pair, then skips away to check Taveth. He flails under her physical scrutiny, but allows the healing of a small cut on his cheek.

Anarchaia gives a weak laugh and shrugs. “I’m not around them nearly as much as you think I am.” She struggles to withhold more laughter at his fussing.

Alisbeth sneers, but takes his hand anyway. “You’re just saying that because these three are here.” She turns to the corpse and frowns. “My Maw is under there.”

“Because I have a sense of privacy,” Grimory says cautiously as he rounds to the giant’s side. His arms mutate again to give him the muscles he needs to push the skrog over and onto its side. “Hurry,” he groans.

Alisbeth sprints beneath the body and yanks on her axe. After a few good pulls, it comes free and she rolls out of the way.

The Illidari releases the body and it again rolls onto its back. He releases the breath he’d been holding in a sigh, then follows the others. “Still intact?” he asks Alisbeth as he passes.

Taveth clears his throat and whispers low to the mage. “So then, you probably can’t tell me why Grimory is so infuriating and yet so…” He clears his throat again.

Anarchaia turns to him and grins beneath her mask. “Charming?”

“_Hrng._ Yes,” he whines.

“I could, actually,” the mage chuckles in a low tone, then steps over the threshold of the archway.

“All good!” Alisbeth chirps, falling into step beside the demon hunter.

“So, that fat bloke is causing all this storm?” Edrah leans on her staff, catching her breath.

“Yes. I saw him doing something—channeling his energies into the eye.” Taveth says.

“So just kill him, then,” Grimory says as he passes the group, claws already at the ready once again. “Like everything else.” He jumps as another bolt of lightning strikes near them, then curses loudly in irritation. “Okay, let’s do this. I’m so sick of this rain.” He throws a sigil of flames beneath the gigantic man and he bellows down at them as the soles of his feet burn.

Taveth’s eyes darken and his lips press into a line. “Make it fast. We’re so close!” He hisses under his breath. “I can feel it.”

“Oh, you’re back to being a little twat, now, are you?” Edrah asks.

Taveth sneers at her. “Take a long walk off a short pier.”

“Skinny dipping? Sure! Are _you_ coming?”

Alisbeth falls to the ground as is shakes beneath her, the soil opening in cracks under her boots. “Would you two _shut up_ and do something?”

“What am I supposed to do?” Taveth snaps.

Edrah shrugs and sets out her serpent statue. “Stop being useless, for one. Why did you even come on this expedition?”

“Please stop arguing,” Anarchaia grumbles from the back as she throws balls of fire and arcane energy. “It’s not productive.” A sphere of water forms around her and she’s lifted off her feet. She sighs bubbles.

“It’s a pity you cannot survive without air,” the skrog king calls with a laugh. Vortexes of salty wind spiral about their circular arena and the rain seems to come down harder.

Grimory makes an effort to hack at the man’s heel but is forced to dodge away when he attempts to kick at him.

Taveth spins on his heel and sticks his nose indignantly into the air. He stomps a few yards before a whirlpool sweeps under his feet and knocks him to the ground.

Alisbeth swings her axe lazily, ready to be done with the tall creatures. “I’m not climbing this one,” she growls.

“Then I will,” Grimory responds. He flies up to blow fire in the skrog’s face. The man groans as his beard of seaweed, as well as the skin on his nose, shrivels and burns. He swats Grimory back to the sand like a bothersome fly and lifts a foot to stomp on him. “Foolish, tiny mortals.”

Alisbeth runs under the skrog’s foot and braces herself as Edrah throws a her sphere around Grimory. The foot comes down, burying Alisbeth in the sand up to her knees until the sole of his foot is stopped by the sphere.

The death knight grins as though it was her own strength. “You okay, Grim?”

“Yeah,” the demon hunter says with a pained, dazed grin. “I am, now.”

Taveth pushes to his feet and slowly slinks from the arena, around the hull of a ship and down a narrow way where a lone snail puffs along with a sort of sad determination.

The bubble around Anarchaia pops and she falls to her feet again, water pouring from her mouth and nose. She shakes her head and lifts her hands. The water saturating the sands surrounding the cocoon coalesce around its shell. She jerks one hand up and a spike of ice forms, piercing the skrog’s foot. He groans again and stumbles, landing on the sharp crag behind him.

A swirl of water splashes over the two and Alisbeth giggles. She goes to hop out of the ground, then frowns as she doesn’t budge. “Well…shit.” Instead of worrying about it, she turns and bats her axe at the bottom of the skrog’s foot, gashing it open over and over until a pool of blood is staining the sand.

Edrah laughs at the death knight. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that strategy before. What do you call it?”

“Mud wiggling!”

Anarchaia takes hold of the water inside Alisbeth and grunts as she pulls her out of the earth to drop her gently into the sand again. She does the same with Grimory, but instead tosses him up and onto the giant.

The demon hunter gives a curt wave of gratitude and begins burrowing a hole into the skrog’s stomach.

The King grabs Grimory in a fist and squeezes him until the elf cries out in pain. “You’ll not make it out of here unscathed,” the giant growls despite his pain and bleeding.

Alisbeth hops in excitement. “That was _so cool_, Anvilmarch!” She clambers up the skrog and swings her axe over her head to bring it down like a pickaxe on the skrog’s chest. “I’m mining for a heart. Think he’s got one?” She takes note of the demon hunter’s predicament and swings her axe around to the King’s wrist. “Drop him! He’s _mine!_”

Taveth reaches the end of the walk. As he nears a sudden drop-off with a broken ship’s hull down in the water, a bolt of lightning hits the ground at his feet. He yelps and backs away.

Edrah throws a heal across the area, blanketing the group. She runs forward and kicks and punches at the skrog’s foot, where Alisbeth had torn it open.

The skrog hurls Grimory back to the sand to swat at the death knight hacking at his wrist. He instead grabs her with his uninjured hand and kicks at the monk as he attempts to stand.

Anarchaia summons a circle of runes around her in the sand. She closes her eyes as she concentrates and energies swirl about her robes. With hands of fire, she waits for the skrog to sit up. Once she has a full view of his face, she mutters another apology before throwing a massive ball of fire into his head with blinding speed. The King falls back, face smoldering. When the rain slows the flames to a sizzle, they see that the skrog’s face has been reduced to a crater of cooked flesh, seaweed, and bone shards; smoke billowing from the hole.


	33. Chapter 33

Taveth wretches as the scent of charred flesh wafts to him. When he stands, he realizes that lightning didn’t strike him when he stepped forward. Not even thinking to call to the others or wait, he clambers down the ship’s hull and runs across the beach. He skids to a stop near a witch, whose concentration is still set on the huge monstrosity they’re conjuring.

Alisbeth slips from the skrog’s limp hand and grimaces. She grips the head of her axe and whines as she pulls to remove it from her side, where the fist had pushed the spikes deep into her ribs. She drops the axe to the ground and hugs her side.

Edrah crawls across the mud, looking for her staff through foggy eyes from being kicked in the face by a giant foot.

Anarchaia breathes tiredly as she looks at her party. She shakes her head. “Such a mess.” She turns to speak to Taveth only to realize he’s nowhere to be found. She sighs and goes to pick up Edrah’s staff and hand it to her. “Are you all right?” She grimaces at Alisbeth. “Are _you_ all right?”

Grimory gets to his feet and growls at the pain of his fractured bones. He limps to the skrog’s corpse and places a hand on it. A glowing green shard breaks free from its form and shatters, the dust entering his lungs and healing his minor wounds. “That was harder than the Halls.”

Edrah recovers from the daze and nods. “I’m fine. Thank you. _Holy balls!_” She runs over to Alisbeth. “What happened?” She wraps Alisbeth in enough green mist to obscure the death knight from view.

“My axe,” Alisbeth replies. “Got pinned against me.”

Edrah growls as the mist dissipates, yet the wounds continue to spout blood. “Take off your armor. It’s holding your flesh open like a tap.”

Alisbeth struggles to undo the buckles with Edrah’s help. When the monk goes to help with the breastplate, Alisbeth screams out and punches the other elf hard enough to make her go rolling across the ground. “Don’t touch me!” She backs away like a wounded animal, hugging her side tighter.

Grimory’s ears perk at the sound of Alisbeth’s cries and he scrambles around to the other side of the corpse, still holding his broken bones. “Ali! What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“There was an incident with her axe,” Anarchaia explains, tapping her fingers together nervously. “She needs to take off her armor.”

“Let me help,” the Illidari says, reaching for Alisbeth to come to him.

“No,” Alisbeth whines. “It _hurts_.”

When all goes silent after his cousin’s scream of agony, Taveth runs back and scrambles up the ship hull. He jumps and smacks against the wall, scrabbling to grab something. The ground gives no such help and he slips to the water below.

Edrah shakes her head as she stands. “Oh, that’ll getcha. You got an arm on you, little lass.” She swirls more healing vapor around the death knight to keep her from bleeding out until the armor is removed.

“It’ll hurt more if you don’t take it off,” Grimory explains. “Edrah has to heal you or you’ll continue to bleed until you pass out. You don’t want that, do you?”

“_JUST LET HIM HELP YOU AND GET DOWN HERE!_” Taveth shouts from the top of the debris.

Edrah blinks. “What the— Where is that little wanker?”

The mage perks at the sound of Taveth’s voice and follows it to the ledge. “Oh, there you are. You shouldn’t wander.”

Alisbeth lets out a long whine as she inches toward Grimory. “Do it fast.”

Grimory nods and steps forward to grab her chest piece. He peels off the half that is unaffected and tosses it to the sand. “Edrah, heal while I do this.” He looks at Alisbeth. “This is gonna hurt a lot for a brief moment, okay? Hold onto me.”

Alisbeth nods and grips his forearm. Edrah gives a little salute and begins a steady stream of mist flowing over the death knight.

Taveth sighs indignantly. “Not like I could _do_ anything to help, anyway. I thought I could reach my things but…it’s over there, past those Naga. I can _feel_ it. It’s right there but I can’t reach it! Do you know how frustrating that is? It’s like going to the library and forgetting your restricted access pass. It’s _right there_, but you can’t touch it! It’s _maddening!_” His eyes bug behind his spectacles and his voice grows more frantic the longer he talks. By the end, he looks like a madman as he fixes his frustrated gaze on the mage.

Grimory gives Alisbeth a solemn nod. He inhales and grips the plate firmly on either side. He pulls the piece directly out of the wound as swiftly as he can and grimaces at the sound.

Anarchaia merely stares down at him, lips in a thin line behind her mask. “Are you all right, Taveth? Is there something we should know?”

Taveth narrows his eyes. “Know? No. I’m perfectly fine. Why would you ask—”

Alisbeth’s scream shatters the air. Her nails dig into Grimory’s forearm, then release as the pain subsides and the wounds begin to close. She frowns up at the demon hunter, then punches him in the chest with all of her strength. “That hurt!”

Sucking in air from the pain of having a shockwave rush through his bruised ribs, Grimory reels but catches his footing. He pauses and empties his lungs slowly. “I warned you it would,” he groans.

Anarchaia shudders at the sound. “She had an accident with her axe. They’re fixing it.”

Edrah wraps him in mist. “Warning doesn’t mean she’s prepared. Come on, the other two went this way.”

Alisbeth sets her hand in Grimory’s. “I’m sorry I hit you so hard. It hurt a lot. Thank you.” She pulls gently to take him with her to follow the monk.

Grimory gives a sigh of relief at the soothing vapors seeping into his being and healing him from within. “It’s fine,” he grunts and follows as he’s pulled. He pulls his ears back at the sight before him. “That thing looks bigger than before.”

“Yeah. So, let’s go?” Taveth hops from the hull down into a pool of water.

Edrah purses her lips and leans to Anarchaia. “You’re positive he’s not normally like this? Because he sure looks comfortable being an ass.”

Alisbeth nudges the monk. “He’s not. Something is wrong.”

“Would you get down here, you lazy cows!”

“Very wrong. He doesn’t name-call.” Alisbeth looks between Anarchaia and Grimory, then sighs and jumps down to catch up to the high elf.

The mage rolls her eyes, too exhausted to care. She leaps down, using magic to slow her fall and land gently on her feet.

Grimory follows and makes note of the four sea witches channeling energy into the swirling vortex above. “I think it’s safe to say we need to stop these bitches from doing… Whatever it is they’re doing.”

Edrah nods and eyes the mage. “I think the fire is fizzling in this one. Let’s make it quick.”

“Yes. Let’s,” Taveth barks impatiently.

Alisbeth punches him in the arm as she passes. “Not another word.” She hits him again then runs to hack at the first witch, making quick work of her. “They’re pathetic, come on!” She runs to the next one.

Grimory flies to the other side of the pool, hacking through one of the channelers there while Anarchaia freezes the last to the water she stands in, then shatters her to pieces with another strong blast of fire. The monstrosity in the pool cries out in anger, throwing its hands up. The air begins to swirl into a vortex, kicking up wet sand and swirling the rain about at high speeds.

The mage shudders. “Let’s make this fast…”

Taveth races to the creature, but realizes his belongings aren’t there. He turns and scans the beach, then spots it by the water. “No…”

“Tav!” A gust of wind catches Alisbeth off guard. She drops her axe into a tornado that speeds past her, tangling her hair around her face.

The Maw spins past Edrah, who tries to dodge, but is caught on the temple by the heavy, club-shaped bottom of the handle. The monk falls to the ground, completely unconscious.

Grimory growls as he watches the events unfold before him. He rushes forward to slash at the gargantuan hand of water as it comes down toward Taveth.

Anarchaia runs to Edrah and attempts to rouse her through shaking. When she’s unsuccessful, she straightens and fidgets in panic. _Not good_. She gathers her strength and throws up an arcane shell around the two men before the tidal monster can crush them.

Taveth turns to see the tidal wave. He leaps out of the way, the water thoroughly sogging his feet. With a dismissive grunt, he gets back up and runs to his bag. _If it’s clasped, all is fine…_ He turns it over to see the buckles undone. He drops to his knees as desperation claws at his chest. “Please, no…”

Alisbeth growls, clawing at her head to straighten her hair, but it continues to billow around, wrapping back over her face as she runs after the twister. “That’s mine!” she shrieks, trying to catch up to the twirling axe.

Grimory cranes his head to see what his allies are doing just in time to witness Taveth run off and Anarchaia give a few halfhearted flame bursts before collapsing in the sand. He growls again in frustration and dodges another swipe from the elemental. _Shit! This is impossible with just me. I’ll need more._ The muscles in his arms undulate beneath the skin and spikes raise through the flesh. He catches the next swing of the monster’s hand in both arms and grunts as he braces himself in the sand. “More…”

Taveth opens the bag and reaches inside to find his book floating in a pool of water. His breathing becomes heavy as he opens the pages, only to find most of the ink washed away and smudged. His eyes glow dark purple as his face turns a dark shade of angry red. “So much research…study…travel…” He growls out an angry shout and reaches into the satchel. The dagger floats eagerly into his hand.

<<Master. My name is Thal’kiel. I… Wait, it’s you? But the presence I felt was so angry. It’s delicious.>> The skull leans in close to sniff Taveth. <<Wonderful.>>

Taveth shoves the skull away and turns back to the elemental. “That was EVERYTHING I HAD!”

Grimory lifts his ears at the drowned-out sound of Taveth’s yelling. He turns his head to look but is immediately overpowered at the first sign of distraction. After he regains his footing—and dodges Alisbeth’s flying axe—he gathers himself and squares his shoulders toward the monster. His wings unfold and his torso doubles in size, the muscles stretching across his bones. The horns on his head curl outward and more sprout from his forehead. He inhales and grins with fangs that overlap his lips.

“Finally,” he growls in an ethereal voice and flies forward to bellow a cloud of fire comparable to the beast itself.

<<You’ve made some delightful friends, I see. Let’s show him ours.>> Thal’kiel swirls around Taveth as though excited, his teeth chattering together.

The elf holds the dagger before him and glares at the watery creature. He slowly walks forward as he shouts over the storm in Demonic, calling his minions forth by name.

Keeshokin fades into existence and growls. <<Who dares summon me?>> He looks down at Taveth and cocks an eyebrow. <<This, I like.>>

“Shut up and get in there,” Taveth growls.

The felguard laughs and leads the charge, the imps leading the dogs right on his heels.

<<Can we expect this to be your regular disposition?>> Thal’kiel asks.

Taveth sneers. “You, too.”

The skull obediently teleports to the others to scream in ear-splitting pitch, as it is all he can do.

The noise raises the attention of the demon possessing Grimory’s body and he has to double take at the group. <<Keeshokin. Thal’kiel. What in the infinite hells would bring you lot here?>> He nimbly dodges another punch from the storm incarnate. The winds pick up further and he’s forced to land.

Thal’kiel stops and stares. He zips over to butt his skull against Grimory’s forehead. <<Spinewing, what a surprise. Finally out of the cage, I see?>>

“Which one? That fucking crystal or this pathetic excuse for a host?” He sends Keeshokin a rude gesture with a claw and hacks off the elemental’s left hand, but the appendage quickly grows back.

<<Hey,>> Keeshokin growls, <<you still owe me a case of inferno punch.>> The felguard returns to slashing at the elemental.

Alisbeth runs past and slaps into one of Grimory’s new wings. She falls on her rear and growls. “Outta my way!” She bats the wing and trudges forward, then stops and observes the demons, then stares long and hard at Grimory. She grins and sidles close to lean into the demonic form. “Hey,” she purrs.

Spinewing stops at the sound of the familiar elf below him. He scoffs and lifts a clawed foot to her forehead. “Get lost.” He kicks her across the banks. “At least until I’m done with this.” He breathes more fire over the monster and it reduces slightly in size, steam billowing outward.

Taveth sneers as his cousin flies through the elemental, only to come out on the other side dazed and useless. “Don’t you touch her!” he screams at the mutated form. He summons another felguard which stops and glares at him.

<<You cannot command me!>>

Taveth points the dagger. “Yes, I can. Get in there.”

The felguard runs forward to stand towering over Keeshokin. <<You tiny, tamed demons are so funny,>> it says, chuckling.

Keeshokin growls, but ignores the other.

Spinewing cocks his head to glare at Taveth from the corner of a glowing eye. “You’re next,” he sneers and stops the elemental’s oncoming punch with a single claw. He spreads his wings again and flies against the air currents to blow more fire into the monster’s head. It cries out and sends multiple waves of water in all directions.

Taveth turns his dagger skyward. A huge purple ball flies from the skies and into the water. It bursts open, spewing a dozen imps out onto the banks. They cackle and hop in excitement, climbing onto the unconscious party members before turning to throw fireballs at the elemental. Another meteor streaks through the sky, its fire green. It hits the sand beside Grimory and shatters into a pile of boulders. Fel eyes blink up at the sky, then the boulders collect themselves. The infernal stands, towering over the demon hunter. It roars in anger, then lays its flaming fists into the watery creature. Together, the demons with their flames weaken the elemental until it sizzles and hisses out of existence.

Spinewing gives a hearty laugh. “The Legion prevails once more.” The waters in the pool swirl and a light filters up through the surface. The Tidestone, whole and unmarred, lifts into the air and stands ready to be collected. The demon turns and cracks his knuckles, stomping through the sand toward Taveth. <<Now, then,>> he hisses in demonic as a wide grin stretches across his face.

Alisbeth scrambles forward, stumbling her way to kneel in front of Taveth. “You’ll have to go through me, asshole.”

Spinewing swiftly curls his claws around Alisbeth’s throat and lifts her feet above the ground. “Easily done. Join the other useless raff in the dirt where you belong.” He throws her to the side and into the dunes near her fallen comrades.

“Ali!” Taveth reaches out as though to grab her. He sets his angry purple eyes on the metamorphosed demon hunter. <<I bind you.>>

Thal’kiel sighs in exasperation. <<You can’t do that, you know.>>

Taveth bats him away and holds up the dagger, backing away as the other advances. <<I BIND YOU!>>

Spinewing narrows his eyes and gives a twisted laugh, lifting his claws on preparation for what he’s about to do. <<Are you truly so arrogant as to think you can enslave me? A Doomlord? Pathetic.>>

Taveth swallows, his throat and tongue gone dry. He takes a step back. _At least I tried._

<<Die quickly, so we can get a competent master,>> Thal’kiel scoffs.

Spinewing gives a grunt of a growl as he strikes Taveth hard enough to send him sprawling. <<You know what disgusts me most about you warlocks?>> He sends a kick into his side. <<You’re cocky. Overconfident. You think yourselves above the demons you enslave.>> He bends to lift the high elf by the throat high into the air and squeezes with his claws, the nails threatening to pierce the flesh. <<Now they’ll be free.>>

Taveth’s vision spots as he gasps for air. Then, for what seems no reason at all to the elf, he remembers a page he’d come across before knowing the demonic language. A single word had been written beneath two leering eyes. And so, on what Taveth knew was his final breath, he whispered it, hoping beyond hope that another demon would come to his aid.


	34. Chapter 34

The demon gives another laugh. His chuckle is cut short, however, as chains—glowing with dark indigo energies—slither from the ground beneath him. They snap tightly across his chest and back and Spinewing gapes as his hand is forced open, dropping Taveth to the ground again. <<What have you done to me?>> he growls from the back of his throat.

Taveth sucks in a desperate breath and coughs on it. He gapes at the trapped demon, unable to realize what had happened.

Taveth’s own demons turn to stare at their master.

<<You…enslaved Spinewing…>> Thal’kiel says in awe.

After a moment of silence, Keeshokin nudges Spinewing with his elbow. <<You’re giving me that punch, right?>>

Frustration rising, he reaches to grab Taveth again by the throat but finds he cannot close his claws around it. After a bestial growl, Spinewing gives the felguard an unimpressed scowl. “Shove it up your ass.” He turns back to Taveth. “Release me this instant! Or I’ll destroy everything you hold dear in this world!”

Taveth stands and puts himself between Spinewing and the women. He squares his shoulders and juts his jaw in defiance. “No.”

Thal’kiel laughs at the situation. It rises until he’s cackling in Spinewing’s face. <<_No_. He said no! And you’re…>> He laughs even harder. <<I’m sorry, but you won’t see the humor of it until you’ve spent more time around his usual self.>>

The Doomlord gives another noise of frustration and brings a fist up, then down onto Thal’kiel’s crown, knocking the skull into the sand. He towers over Taveth. “So, what now, then, small mortal? You banish me to the twisting nether? You have me run your errands?”

“No,” Taveth says, lifting the dagger to aim the width of it at Spinewing. “You’re dismissed.”

Spinewing blinks. “I’m—” The flesh of Grimory’s chest and shoulders molds back to its original state: his wings recede, along with the many spines and spikes, and his horns curl back to their usual size. He falls to his knees in the sand, panting. After a moment he glances up at Taveth, then scrambles to his feet to wrap his arms around the smaller man. “Thank you,” he breathes, squeezing tightly.

Taveth’s eyes bug and he stiffens in shock. He returns the hug tentatively, trying not to enjoy the contact as much as he wants to. “Y-yeah. That guy was a jerk. Heh.”

Keeshokin shoves the demon hunter aside and grabs Taveth’s shirt. “Bring Spinewing back!”

The demons converge on him, the dogs biting at his leg until he falls to his knees. “You’re dismissed! All of you!” The demons fade out in puffs of purple smoke.

Thal’kiel finally pops himself out of the sand and sputters. <<Spinewing! You assho— Where’d he go? What did I miss?>>

Taveth drops the dagger to the ground and puts his shaking hands to his face as he struggles to breathe normally.

Grimory gives one of the imps a swift kick before they all disappear. He helps Taveth back to his feet, eyeing the dagger nervously as though looking at it with new light. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Taveth seems to shrink with embarrassment. “Because I didn’t want this. I was just…researching and I found it and… They all hate me.”

Alisbeth crashes against Taveth, knocking him off his feet, but catching him in her arms. She squeezes him until he coughs for air. “You’re my hero! You sent that asshole away!” She spins on Grimory and frowns, then punches all of her anger into his jaw. “Don’t ever do that again.” She stomps away to dig her axe from a small sand dune.

Grimory grunts in pain as his head violently jerks with the blow. He scowls after her as he rubs the painful spot. “Maybe help next time, then.” He scoffs at Taveth. “You’re pretty good at it, regardless. Enslaving a Doomlord is no small feat.” He wanders over to the Tidestone and inspects it. “I’m sure I know who’d be interested in this.”

Taveth collects his things, ignoring the dagger in the sand. He holds out the soaked and broken satchel. “Put the Tidestone in here. And…the dagger, please. Whenever I touch it Thal’kiel comes out and yells at me.” He blushes some at the compliment. “Heh. The demons don’t agree with you. They all hate me. Say I’m weak. And they’re right. Heh.”

Alisbeth sheaths her axe and scoops Anarchaia from the sand, dropping her over a shoulder. She scoops the monk onto her other shoulder. “Hey! Hey, Grim! Remember when I carried your grain like this! I thought you were going to die of shock.” She strides to him and grins. “Even stronger now, I bet. Or these two weigh nothing.” She kisses his pectoral as though she hadn’t just punched him.

“I recall. Still impressive.” He smiles down at Alisbeth, nostalgia flooding him, then turns to collect the relic. “Demons hate everyone that isn’t a demon,” Grimory explains, tossing the Tidestone into the satchel. He picks up the dagger, then immediately hisses in pain and throws it into the bag as well. He rubs at his burning palms. “Warlock bullshit…”

Taveth jumps and smashes the bag closed. “Are you okay? Let me see!” He reaches for the demon hunter’s hand.

Alisbeth hums an idle tune as she leaves the men, with no clue what they’re even doing. She trudges toward the outer path that leads to the portal. “So, Ashira, you missed so much cool stuff. I had to peek through my hair to see a lot of it. I need a hood like yours. And you, drinky-lady, you missed it too, didn’t you? It was pretty great. My cousin is a badass. Totally saved the day. You won’t believe me when you wake up, I know it. Both of you are probably going to have some pretty bad hangovers. Yep. Wait, what made you fall, Apie? Nothing hit you and you just smashed to the ground. Did you faint? I bet you fainted. That’s so lame. I got kicked across the water. Went right through that thing. Don’t go inside water elementals. It’s like being trapped in a nightmare, even though it’s just a second. Then when you get out the world is screaming, and everything is dancing watercolors and it makes you real sick to your stomach. Why did that demon Grim have to be so mean? I just wanted to say hi and maybe cuddle and ask a few questions, is that so much to ask? But he doesn’t like me and so he kicked me and tried to kill Taveth and so I hate him. I hate him. It’s like, wow, dude, I think you’re cool and I like your style, but shit, I mean—”

“For the love of fucking bloody everything shut the fuck up! Just shut your mouth!”

Alisbeth jumps and drops the monk. “Oh! How long have you been awake? How’s your head? Sorry my—”

“Shut up!” Edrah downs what’s left in her flask and glares at the death knight. “I have been conscious for nearly all of your blithering, but I couldn’t bloody move to tell you to shut your damn mouth. You talk so much.”

“You’re just mad because you’re sobering up.” Alisbeth spins on her heel and leaves the monk sitting in the dirt.

Edrah narrows her eyes. “True.” She scrambles to follow.

Grimory knits his brow as Taveth glosses over his hands. “I’m fine. We should follow the girls.” He pulls his hands away do fix his hair again and turns for the trail.

“R-right. Heh.” Taveth falls into step behind Grimory, his arms wrapped around the satchel.

~ * ~

Khadgar’s eyes light with interest as the shards of the Tidestone float lazily around one another. “This is…the Tidestone of Golganneth.” He blinks, seemingly perplexed by the whole situation. “Uhm…how did you come across this exactly?”

“Naga were using it to summon a huge storm incarnate,” Grimory responds boredly. He gestures to the elf beside him. “Taveth destroyed it.”

Taveth fidgets. “I…didn’t do anything, really. Heh.” He keeps his eyes on the floor as though afraid to look at the Archmage. “I w-was doing research and it was in a b-book. The whole thing was an accident, really. Heh.” He fidgets again and looks at Grimory. “I-it was a team effort.”

Grimory rolls his eyes. “Not really. I lost control. You did most of it. Gods know Ana and Ali didn’t do shit.”

The Archmage gives Taveth a once over with his blue eyes as though questioning the validity of the story. “Impressive,” he finally says, a small smile creeping across his lips as he sets a hand on Taveth’s shoulder. “I suppose some sort of compensation is in order for such an effort. You’re free to anything you’d like within the city.” The Tidestone hovering above his other palm disappears in a flash of light. “Same goes for the rest of you, regardless of participation.”

“I have a large bar tab,” Edrah says, working her way through a new bottle of scotch. “Maybe something could be arranged for that?”

Taveth’s stomach twists in response to the smile spread across Khadgar’s lips. Then to his blue eyes. He blushes and looks away. “I-I really… Heh. N-no, it, I don’t really n-need—unless you know someone who can restore ink that’s been washed away?” he blurts, then ducks his head and blushes harder.

Alisbeth steps away from the monk, Anarchaia still on her shoulder. “She fell over and won’t wake up, even when I was telling her about everything she missed. Is she going to be okay? Can I ask for that reward? For her to not be dead?”

Khadgar purses his lips at the monk and narrows one eye as the smell of alcohol wafts through the chamber. “Consider it paid.” He glances down at Taveth, thick eyebrows raised. “Actually, Kalec is rather adept at restoration. If you’d like to leave them with me I’ll see that he gets them.” He thirdly comes to notice Alisbeth and can’t help but chuckle at her innocence. “She’ll be fine. She just needs rest. We can care for her here.” He holds out his arms to take Anarchaia from the death knight and finally comes to look in Grimory’s direction. “And you, Silversong?”

“I don’t want anything,” the demon hunter grumbles, pressing his folded arms to his chest and avoiding eye contact. “Just a drink and sleep.”

Edrah salutes Khadgar. “Right then, been a displeasure. Don’t call me again. You lot are chaos.” She stomps out the door and into the bustling streets.

Alisbeth shakes Taveth by the arm. “Tav! He’s like a genie! He’s granting wishes! Ask for more, you deserve it. I mean did you even see what you did? I may have gotten punted by Spindlebean, but I still saw it. Kind of. I think. I know you shouted a lot!” She turns her grin on Khadgar. “Give him commendations! A parade! A—”

“Ali, I don’t want anything. I just want my work restored and to be left alone.” He shoves his hand into his bag, it brushes the dagger and Thal’kiel pops into view.

<<You! I wasn’t done with you. Do you know how—>>

The elf withdraws his hand with the sodden journals and gives a sheepish grin. “Heh. Sorry K-Khadgar.”

Brow knit in a mixture of confusion and general unamusement, the Archmage slowly takes the soggy books from the man with his unoccupied hand. “Right. I’ll see to it that Kalec gets these. I’m afraid it may take some time, however. Perhaps check back as frequently as you can? I’m sure he’ll have more answers for you than I.” He clears his throat. “I need to see to the relic. You all have a good evening and know you have my utmost gratitude.”

“Th-thank you. Really. Thank you. If you need any help, just ask. I took a lot of notes on the Tidestone which you can bor— Right, it’s in that journal.” He points at the green-spined one at the bottom of the soggy pile. “L-love your research on the properties of undeath. F-fascinating.” He swallows nervously.

Alisbeth sets her hand on his arm. “Hey, let him go. He can’t fix your book if you’re talking to him.” She grins at Khadgar as she pushes Taveth toward the door. “Thanks for taking care of Aphrodite!”

“Flattered,” Khadgar manages to say with a smile before Alisbeth ushers them away. He arranges the journals so that the green one sits on top. Anarchaia still cradled in an arm, he disappears.

Grimory follows the duo. “Should we see if ol’ Kolt’s gone insane, yet?” he muses with a grin. “I’m betting he’s spoiling her.”

Alisbeth laughs. “Oh, I bet. She’s adorable and has that cute little smile when she asks for something. No one can resiste her begging face.”

Taveth smiles. “I can. It’s the same face you used to make, and I fell for it every time until I learned better.”

“Poor Diori gets no leeway, then,” Grimory says with a quiet laugh. Once outside the door to Alisbeth’s room, he reflexively taps the back of his knuckles on the door. “If she’s still awake at this hour, though…” he mutters.

“It’s unlocked,” Koltira says just loud enough for them to hear.

Alisbeth opens the door and stops to giggle at the scene. Koltira sits on the bed, still reading the book about birds, though he’s near the end, and Diori is curled into his lap as tightly as she can.

“Good book?” Taveth asks.

“Textbooks are not really ‘good’ books. But it’s something to read, I suppose.” The death knight closes said book and sets it on the table by the bed. “How was the expedition?”

Grimory swallows the seething jealousy that catches in his throat. “Successful,” he grumbles as he closes the door behind them. “You an expert on birds yet?”

“No, but I think she might be. Really loves to learn, doesn’t she?” He moves a clump of hair behind her ear and smiles at the sleeping girl.

Alisbeth eyes Grimory and bites the inside of her lip. “Why don’t we get her back to her own bed, now?”

The demon hunter nods. “She has lessons tomorrow.” He steps to the bed and holds out his arms in an expectant manner, a grim disposition painted on his features.

Koltira blinks up at Grimory. “Of course.” He gently lifts her and deposits her into Grimory’s arms. “Probably warm her up a bit, too. Where’s Ana?”

Grimory gently presses the little girls head to his chest as he straightens. “She overexerted herself. The old man took her.”

Koltira’s brow lowers. “I have no reason to dislike him, but he knows something, and I think he’s keeping it from Ana.” He gets up to stretch, nearly all of his joints popping.

Grimory stops, taken aback by the sudden exposition. “I…wouldn’t be surprised. Perhaps you should take that up with him.” He scoffs as he turns toward the door. “If you even can.”

Taveth opens the door for Grimory. “I’m not sure how the guards will feel about you coming in, but she got too heavy for me about five years ago.”

He nods to Taveth as he passes. “Surely the fact that I’m her father means something.”

Koltira slips past them and into the hall. “Right, forgot you never actually cared about your little mage friend. Have fun finding a new babysitter.” He turns to go down the stairs and leave them all behind.

Taveth sputters. “But, didn’t you two have fun?”

The death knight sets his gaze first on the sleeping girl and then on Taveth. “We did.” He looks on Grimory. “But I know my place.”

Alisbeth bites her lips together, trying to stay out of the argument. “IthinkDiori’sopinionistheonlyonethatmatters,” she blurts.

The Illidari’s jaw tenses when his care for Anarchaia once again comes into question. He cocks his head at the last statement. “Do you, though?” he snaps—more out of spite than jealousy, completely disregarding Alisbeth’s outburst.

Koltira responds by turning his back on them and leaving for Acherus.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be sitting out any future missions. Not like I’m very useful anyway. Heh.” Taveth motions for Grimory to follow.

Alisbeth trots out to kiss Diori on the forehead, then goes back into the room.

Grimory gives Alisbeth a small smile before following Taveth at his request. “You’re trying to tell me you weren’t useful? You did most of the work where it mattered most.”

Taveth shrugs off the comment. “I’m just a bumbling idiot who accidentally found a skull and the dagger to master it, and a valuable relic. Even my research is an accident. I wasn’t going to be a scholar, I just never stopped. Clumsy idiots are never the right choice.”

“There’s really no such thing as a right choice,” Grimory says as they step out into the emptying Dalaran streets. “Though if there is, bringing you with on that expedition was one. We could have just left you.”

“Honestly, you should have. I was a liability the whole time. Wasn’t in the right state of mind.” He stops in front of the guards and smiles. “Can my friend come in to put my sister to bed?”

“No Horde,” the Worgen snarls down at the men.

“I’m _not_ Horde. I’m her father!” Grimory says with a slight scowl.

“Is that so? Where’s your proof, elf?”

The demon hunter purses his lips. “Just look at her.”

“No. The Quel’dorei are permitted. You are not.”

Taveth purses his lips and turns to Grimory. “Meet me under the Hall of the Guardian. I’ll be right back.” He stomps indignantly into Greyfang Enclave.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows with intrigue. “Will do.” He nods and finds himself turning toward the Halls without much thought.

Taveth finds Grimory some minutes later, sighing in relief as though he hadn’t expected the demon hunter to listen. “Okay, then. Let’s try to be fast.”

A fair-haired elf with features similar to Taveth’s steps around the corner. “Sorry, sorry. I had to add one more line. Has to be perfect for Khadgar. Ugh! He’s going to fail me. He’s so mean. Nothing like Kalec.”

“Can we just—”

“Yes!” Without hesitation, the elf takes Taveth’s hand in one of hers, and Grimory’s in the other. “Hold tight!” In a flash of light, they come to stand in a small, humble room with two footlockers and two beds—one small and one long and narrow. “You owe me.” She holds up her hands to leave, then stops, eyes wide on Grimory’s face. “You’re related to her!”

Grimory pauses as they reappear in the room. He blinks as he’s confronted about his appearance. “Uh. Y-yeah. I am, actually,” he says through his befuddlement. “I’m sorry. Have we…?”

“This is her father,” Taveth says.

The elf jumps as though shocked. “Dad said she was an orphan!”

“He lied. Get this, Cousin Ali is her mom.” He eyes Grimory. “Oh, just set her on the bed, here.” He tosses the blanket to the side and motions at the smaller bed, where the faerie dragon plush sits on the pillow.

“Ha! I knew it! She acts just like that little brat did.” She makes herself comfortable on the bed.

Grimory gingerly sets Diori’s small form on the bed and brings the covers up over her shoulders. “Yeah. We, uh…met a long time ago. I fixed a shoe for her charger. She gave me a fake name and I wasn’t able to find her after that.” He scratches the back of his neck and turns, opposite hand outstretched. “I’m Grimory, by the way.”

“Kel’ori.” She takes his hand and smiles. “You know, being vindicated on little miss perfect brat not being so perfect doesn’t quite feel as good as I’d expected, rest her soul.”

“She’s alive. Sort of. She’s one of those death knights.” Taveth sets about putting his things into his trunk in an almost obsessive manner.

“A pleasure.” Grimory folds his arms, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. He watches Taveth. “So, you’re a mage as well. You know Anarchaia?”

“I know of her,” she says tentatively. “She’s Khadgar’s apprentice—Oh, no! My paper! I have to go.”

“Wait!” Taveth grabs her arm. “He’s not thinking about that, trust me.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

The demon hunter blinks. “Are we talking about the old man? He’s…” He gives a snort of a laugh. “Preoccupied, I’m sure.”

“He’s taking my books to Kalec because they got wet. Smeared all the ink, including my research on the Tidestone, which we just delivered to him. Along with the unconscious Anarchaia.” Taveth finds a clean shirt and pulls his off, revealing just how small he is beneath his shirts. He blinks and glances at Grimory as though he’d forgotten he was there, then yanks the new shirt over his head.

“Wait, you know her? What’s she like? I mean, I hear she’s, like, amazing talented.”

Grimory can’t help but size up Taveth when he takes off his shirt. _How the hell is he still alive living as dangerously as he does?_ “Yeah. We’re…friends. Been on a few missions together. She’s…eccentric.”

Kel’ori punches Taveth on the arm. “Your life is more exciting than mine and you’re a shut in! How does that happen? Oh! I should go help Kalec with your journals. I learned how to renew ink last year.”

Taveth narrows his eyes. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask. Come on, the guards will wreck you if you go out the front gate.” She holds her hand out to Grimory.

The demon hunter glances down at her hand before taking it. “Thanks again.” He nods to Taveth. “See you later, yeah?”

Taveth nods. “Yeah. Sure. Heh.”

“Bye, dork!” In a flash the mage and demon hunter are gone, back under the Hall of the Guardian. “Nice meeting you, Grimory.”

“You as well,” he responds with a faint smile and a wave. “Take care. Thanks again.”

Kel’ori leaves in a flash of light.


End file.
